Y  ' 


LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

GIFT  OF 

MRS.   MARY  WOLFSOHN 

IN    MEMORY  OF  j£j    C"tT" 

HENRY  WOLFSOHN         V 

/47SZ 

EEEEEEEH2EEEEEX 


THE 


SIGNET  OF  KING  SOLOMON; 


OR,    THE 


FREEMASON'S  DAUGHTEK. 


BY 


AUG.  C.  L.  ARNOLD,  LL.  D, 

AtTTHOR   OF    "WOMANHOOD,"     "THE   MYSTERY,"     "  CONSPIRACY,"    "  RATIOXAI 
AND  ETHICS   OF   FREEMASONRY,"    ETC. 


NEW  EDITION,  UK  VISED  AND  ENLARGED. 


NEW  YORK : 

MASONIC  PUBLISHING  AND  MANUFACTURING  CO,, 

430    BROOME    STREET, 

186*. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1866,  by  the 

MASONIC  PUBLISHING  AND  MANUFACTURING  CO., 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 
District  of  New  York. 


]N  the  following  pages  the  writer  has  en 
deavored,  through  the  medium  of  fiction, 
to  illustrate  the  principles  of  the  institu 
tion  of  Freemasonry,  or  rather  to  reveal 
its  high  and  glorious  ideal.  THE  KNIGHT 
OF  THE  TEMPLE  is  an  embodiment  of  this  ideal,  which 
may  be  said,  indeed,  to  inspire  all  noble  and  elevated 
souls;  and  exemplifies  it  in  his  aspirations,  charitable 
ambitions,  and  benevolent  deeds;  and  especially  in  his 
unwavering  faith  in  the  triumph  of  truth  and  goodness, 
which  110  obstacles  could  tire,  and  no  discouragements 
could  shake. 

The  author  has  also  wished  to  illustrate  another  great 
truth,  viz. :  that  sin  will  sooner  or  latter  meet  with  its 
certain  recompense,  and  can  be  atoned  for  only  by  labor, 
and  its  effects  destroyed  by  works  of  charity  and  love. 

Believing  that  the  Ideal  of  Freemasonry  will  yet 
descend  into  the  life  of  the  world,  with  a  harmonizing 
and  ennobling  influence,  he  has  desired  to  impress 
upon  the  minds  of  the  brotherhood  the  importance  of 
\vorkiug  constantly  and  zealously  to  this  effect.  When 

14 


n  INTRODUCTION. 

the  world  is  brought  under  the  rule  of  these  divine 
Sentiments,  the  new  temple — the  great  Temple  of 
Humanity,  more  magnificent  than  that  of  SOLOMON, 
constructed  by  our  ancient  brethren — will  appear  in 
its  glory,  and  be  completed  by  our  labors  with  acclama 
tions  of  joy.  The  kingdom  of  violence,  and  injustice, 
and  inequality  will  be  overturned,  and  that  of  love, 
and  goodness,  and  virtue  will  descend  to  bless  the 
earth  forever.  Let,  therefore,  the  prayer  of  each  and 

all  be: 

"ADVENIAT  REGMUM  TUUM." 


PROLOGUE. 


THE  INTERVIEW. 


"  AWAY!  address  thy  prayers  to  Heaven, 

Before  thy  star  of  life  is  set ; 
Learn  if  thou  there  canst  be  forgiven— 

If  mercy  may  absolve  thee  yet! 
But  here  upon  this  earth  beneath 

There's  not  a  spot  where  thou  and  I 
Together  for  an  hour  could  breathe: 

Away !  I  would  not  see  thee  die. '' 


j|N  the  extreme  eastern  portion  of  Massa 
chusetts,  where  the  bold  and  rock- 
shielded  shore  projects  itself  far  out 
into  the  ocean,  as  if  inviting  a  conflict 
with  its  strong  billows,  lies  a  town  of 
considerable  size,  which,  while  in  itself  it  offers  no 
particular  beauties  to  attract  the  attention  of  the 


10  SIGNET   OF  KING    SOLOMON. 

traveler,  is  still  somewhat  celebrated,  on  account  of 

the  remarkable  picturesqueness  of  the  surrounding 

scenery. 

Back  of  the  town,  toward  the  north-west,  a  little 

more  than  half  a  mile  distant,  rises  a  lofty  hill, 
covered  on  the  west  and  north  by  heavy  forest-trees, 
while  the  southern  and  eastern  slope  furnishes  ample 
pasturage  for  the  cattle  of  the  villagers. 

From  this  eminence  the  eye  surveys,  at  a  glance, 
a  prospect  of  the  most  pleasing  and  delightful  char 
acter.  The  sea,  and  its  numerous  fleets,  sweeping 
onward  to  all  parts  of  the  world  ;  the  hills  and  fields, 
smiling  in  all  the  pride  of  their  summer  glory ;  the 
village,  nestling  below,  embowered  by  blooming 
orchards ;  the  boats  of  the  fishermen,  shooting  out 
from  various  points  along  the  shore,  and  skimming 
lightly  over  the  sparkling  waters  of  the  bay,  all 
unite  to  form  a  picture  on  which  the  eye  never  tires 
to  gaze. 

In  the  early  part  of  June,  in  the  year  18-,  just  as 
the  setting  sun,  halting  as  it  were  a  moment  on  the 
horizon,  cast  his  last  farewell  beams  on  the  summit 
of  the  hills,  encircling  it  in  a  blaze  of  glory,  a  gentle 
man  emerged  from  a  path  which  wound  along  under 
the  shadow  of  the  wood,  and,  advancing  to  the 
highest  point,  seated  himself  on  a  rock  beneath  the 
shade  of  a  beech-tree.  He  bore  in  his  hand  a 
bouquet  of  fragrant  wild  flowers,  and  wore  in  the 
button-hole  of  his  coat  a  sprig  of  sweet-brier  and  a 
rose. 


THE   INTEIIVIEW.  11 

He  was  a  person  of  medium  size,  with  an  expressive 
but  not  handsome  countenance,  which  at  this  time 
exhibited  evident  traces  of  fearful  inward  agitation. 
He  moved  restlessly  on  his  seat,  as  if  a  prey  to 
bitter  and  painful  thoughts,  never  raising  his  eyes, 
excepting  now  and  then  to  look  down  the  path  which 
led  to  the  village,  as  if  expecting  the  approach  of  some 
one.  Occasionally,  as  the  tide  of  painful  memories 
swept  through  his  mind,  groans  and  sighs  would 
escape  him,  revealing  a  heart  crushed  and  broken 
by  some  mighty  sorrow  or  overwhelming  calamity. 

At  length  his  regards  rested  on  the  flowers  he  held 
in  his  hand.  After  contemplating  them  a  moment  in 
silence,  he  exclaimed : 

"  Beautiful  children  of  the  sunshine !  emblems  of 
purity,  love,  and  innocence !  what  now  have  I  in 
common  with  "you?"  and  he  made  a  gesture  as  if  he 
would  cast  them  away. 

"  Yet  no  ! "  he  added ;  "  I  will  retain  you.  Ye  are 
teachers  of  a  heavenly  wisdom ;  there  is  a  healing 
benediction  in  your  companionship." 

His  thoughts  assuming  a  poetic  form,  he  continued  : 

"  These  flowers  alone  my  sorrows  know  ; 

They  see  my  grief  and  misery ; 
And  when  I  tell  them  all  my  woe, 
They  seem  to  weep  and  mourn  with  me. " 

"And,  besides,  are  ye  not  also  emblems  .of  the 
fragility  of  human  innocence,  and  of  the  evanescent 
nature  of  all  worldly  illusions?  and,  as  such,  it  is  fit 


12  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

ye  should  be  always  with  me.  The  fairest  flowers 
of  innocence  are  too  often  withered  by  the  blasting 
breath  of  temptation  and  sin !  The  golden  illusion 
of  love  and  truth  are  as  transitory  and  empty  as 
those  fleeting  stars  which  gleam  for  a  moment, 
through  the  night-gloom,  and  then  plunge  into  eter 
nal  darkness.  The  Tempter  marches  through  the 
world,  in  a  thousand  fascinating  and  seductive  forms, 
and  through  pride,  ambition,  interest,  and  cursed 
voluptuousness,  seduces  us  to  our  ruin !  Evil,  in 
forms  of  angelic  beauty,  presents  the  fatal  fruit  to 
our  lips :  we  eat  and  fall,  and  the  avenging  Cheru 
bim,  with  liery  scourges,  drive  us  from  the  Eden  of 
Innocence  and  Peace,  and  guard  the  gates  against 
us  forever ! '' 

The  last  beam  of  day  had  faded;  a  gray  haze 
already  concealed  the  village  from  sight,  and  the 
thick  and  mysterious  shadow  of  night  descended  on 
hill  and  forest.  As  he  sat  there  in  the  darkness, 
wrapt  in  his  painful  thoughts,  he  looked  like  a  statue 
of  grief,  repentance,  and  despair. 

Occupied  with  his  memories,  he  had  not  noticed 
the  light  >step  of  some  person  who  was  rapidly  ap 
proaching  him. 

A  hand  was  laid  upon  his  arm ;  he  started,  as  if 
stung  by  a  serpent. 

"  MAY  MILLWOOD  ! " — "  JOHN  THORNBURY  ! " — were 
the  simultaneous  exclamations  of  both  ;  and  the  pair 
stood  face  to  face,'  silently  gazing  at  each  other  in 
the  gloom 


THE   INTERVIEW.  13 

The  new-comer  was  a  young  lady,  apparently 
about  twenty-three  years  of  age.  She  possessed 
considerable  beauty,  a  complexion  fair  and  trans 
parent,  and  a  form  rather  small,  but  voluptuously 
developed.  The  shape  of  her  head  and  the  contour 
of  her  features  indicated  plainly  a  superior  intellect ; 
while  her  lips  and  eyes,  and  entire  appearance, 
as  certainly  stamped  her  a  child  of  passion — false, 
selfish,  and  capricious ;  incapable  of  comprehending 
any  great  or  noble  sentiment,  or  of  recognizing  the 
first  ideas  of  morality  and  virtue. 

"  So,  MAY  MILLWOOD,  you  have  come  as  I  com 
manded  you,"  said  Captain  THORNBURY,  at  length,  in 
a  voice  remarkably  calm,  considering  his  recent 
agitation. 

"I  am  here  as  you  desired,"  replied  the  girl,  in  a 
subdued  tone;  for  she  could  not  bear  the  piercing 
glance  of  his  eye,  which  seemed  to  read  all  the  dark 
secrets  of  her  soui.  "But  why  did  you  send  for 
me  ?  "  she  continued.  "  I  thought  you  never  wished 
to  see  me  again." 

"  Listen,  wretched  girl,  and ,  you  shall  know,"  he 
replied  quickly.  "  I  have  called  you  to  this  inter 
view,  that  I  might  break  the  last  tie  that  binds  you 
to  me  ;  show  you  a  picture  of  your  wickedness,  in  all 
its  frightful  deformity,  and  announce  your  punish 
ment.  Hear  me :  Before  I  knew  you,  I  was  good 
and  happy.  My  soul  sympathized  with  all  that  was 
true,  and  generous,  and  noble.  I  reverenced  heaven 
and  loved  my  fellow-men  ;  I  was  sincere,  just,  and 


14  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

true.  You  came  to  me,  the  spirit  of  evil,  in  the  form 
of  an  angel ;  surrounded  me  with  your  allurements, 
intoxicated  my  senses  with  your  charms,  and  made 
yourself  mistress  of  my  entire  soul  and  its  deepest 
affections.  I  forgot  GOD,  heaven,  and  immortality — 
all  for  you,  who  absorbed  my  entire  being.  You 
were  my  only  divinity ;  your  smile  was  my  only 
heaven.  Leading  me  into  the  paths  of  sin,  you 
made  me  your  slave.  And  yet,  at  this  very  time, 
when  you  professed  so  much  devotion  and  love  to 
me,  inebriating  me  with  your  fatal  caresses,  and 
when  you  were  well  aware  of  my  idolatrous  affection 
for  you,  you  were  falser  than  DELILAH  of  old ;  fol 
lowing  your  capricious  passions,  and  seeking  impure 
companionships,  with  criminal  recklessness." 

While  Captain  THORNBURY  was  uttering  these 
frightful  accusations,  the  miserable  girl  appeared 
paralyzed.  She  did  not  think  he  knew  the  extent  of 
her  crimes,  and,  perhaps,  she  entertained  the  idea, 
when  she  received  the  command  to  meet  him  on  that 
evening,  that  she  could  still  deceive  him,  and  keep 
him  in  her  chains.  Be  that  as  it  may,  she  was  now 
thoroughly  undeceived. 

After  a  pause,  Captain  THORNBURY  resumed  : 

"  You  have  a  ring  upon  your  finger ;  you  will 
please  hand  it  to  me." 

She  hesitated,  and  looked  into  his  face  inquiringly. 

"  I  have  said  it,"  he  added,  sternly ;  "  every  token 
you  possess  of  my  ill-starred  and  fatal  love  must  be 
destroyed." 


THE   INTERVIEW.  15 

She  slowly,  and  with  evident  reluctance,  removed 
the  ring,  and  passed  it  to  him. 

"And  that  bracelet,"  he  continued,  pointing  to  her 
wrist. 

She  unclasped  it,  and  placed  it  in  his  hand  with 
the  ring. 

"You  will  now  give  me  that  locket,"  he  added. 

"  Oh !  no,  no  ! "  she  exclaimed,  imploringly.  "You 
cannot,  you  will  not  take  that  from  me?" 

"  It  must  be  so,  MAY,"  he  replied,  firmly,  but  with 
an  accent  of  sadness. 

"Oh!  do  not  take  it;  it  contains  the  hair  of  my 
child.  Do  let  me  retain  this,"  she  repeated ;  "  only 
let  me  keep  this." 

"  The  lock  of  hair,  certainly,  but  not  the  locket," 
was  his  cold  reply. 

She  drew  it  from  her  bosom,  and  handed  it  to 
him. 

He  opened  it,  and  took  therefrom  two  locks  of 
hair;  one  of  them  he  threw  away,  and  the  night- 
breeze  bore  it  off,  and  scattered  it  among  the  grass. 
The  other,  a  little  silky  curl,  black  as  a  raven's  plume, 
lie  returned  to  her,  saying : 

"  That  is  your  s.  MATTHEW  ORALL  should  procure 
a  locket  for  it." 

At  the  r/vention  of  this  name,  MAY  staggered  as  if 
she  had  teen  struck  a  heavy  blow.  She  knew  now 
that  Captain  TITORNBURY  was  well  acquainted  with  all 
her  perfidy  and  crimes,  and  she  stood  trembling 
before  him  in  her  unmasked  wickedness,  not  daring 


SIGNET  OF   KING    SOLOMON. 

to  raise  her  head,  nor  meet  the  gaze  of  the  man 
whom  she  had  so  cruelly  deceived  and  wronged. 

"  And  now,  MAY  MILLWOOD,"  he  resumed,  "  listen 
to  the  doom  I  pronounce  upon  you :  Incapable  of 
love,  in  any  high  and  true  sense  of  that  term ;  unable 
to  comprehend  the  meaning  of  the  words  fidelity  and 
duty,  you  are  unfit  to  be  a  wife.  You  must  tread  the 
patli  of  life  alone — alone!  alone! — and  alone  you  must 
expiate  your  crimes  !  Abandon  this  life  of  deception 
and  shame  ;  overcome  the  latent  vices  of  your  nature ; 
cultivate  the  good,  devote  yourself  to  the  useful  ser 
vice  of  your  fellow-creatures,  and  you  may  yet  atone 
for  your  crimes ;  and  GOD  may  accept  your  repent 
ance,  and  bless  you  with  his  forgiveness !  The  Past, 
you  have  lost  forever.  No  power  in  the  universe 
can  restore  it,  or  remove  from  above  you  its  dreadful 
shadow.  Grim  and  terrible  it  will  frown  upon  you 
through  the  long,  long  eternity.  But,  by  the  right 
of  penitence,  you  may  possess  the  Future.  Yes," 
he  continued,  with  enthusiasm,  as  if  talking  to  him 
self  ;  "  yes,  although  the  Past  and  its  evil  deeds  are 
recorded  against  us  for  evermore,  and  justice,  stern 
and  inexorable,  will  execute  the  everduring  retribu 
tion  ;  yet  the  doors  of  the  Future  are  open  to  the 
penitent,  and  above  and  before  us  gleams  the  ever 
brightening  way  where  angels  walk.  Look  at  yonder 
star,  just  lifting  its  golden  crest  above  the  sea,  as  if 
emerging  from  the  dark  abysses  below,  to  take  its 
place  among  the  splendors  of  the  skies.  Thus  break 
ing  the  degrading  bonds  that  have  bound  me,  tri- 


THE   INTERVIEW.  17 

umpiring  over  the  passions  which  have  seduced  and 
the  vices  which  have  wounded  me,  that  star  shall  be 
the  type  of  my  life ;  ever  rising,  ever  advancing  in 
that  star-paved  way  where  only  virtue  may  walk." 

A  sudden  flash  of  dazzling  brightness  from  the 
eastern  sky,  at  this  moment,  illuminated  the  entire 
landscape.  He  turned,  and  saw  a  brilliant  meteor 
sweeping  down  obliquely  toward  the  horizon,  leaving 
a  fleeting  trail  of  splendor  behind.  In  a  few  seconds 
the  last  glimmer  had  disappeared,  and  deeper  dark 
ness  seemed  to  spread  over  the  sky. 

"  MAY  ! "  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  turning  toward 
the  girl,  "  look  well  to  yourself,  or  your  life  will  be 
like  that  transient  meteor — a  star  hurled  from  its 
sphere  of  glory,  to  be  swallowed  up  in  the  eternal 
blackness.  Go ;  but  remember  the  path  I  have  pre 
scribed  for  you  to  walk  in.  Think  not  to  deviate 
from  it,  either  to  the  right  or  the  left.  If  you  seek 
to  practice  new  deceptions,  or  perpetrate  new  crimes, 
a  hand  will  be  near  to  punish ;  in  the  brightness 
of  noon,  or  the  darkness  of  midnight,  an  eye  will 
burn  on  all  your  paths  of  guilt,  be  they  ever  so 
secret,  and  justice  will  be  sure  to  overtake  you.  Go, 
and  repent." 

Overwhelmed  with,  emotions  of  hatred,  fear,  and 
shame,  MAY  turned  away,  without  uttering  a  word, 
and  hurried  down  the  path  to  the  village. 

Captain  THOENBURY  gazed  after  her  with  tearful 
eyes ;  for  he  could  not  forget  the  tender  friendship 
he  had  entertained  for  her  when  he  believed  her 


18  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

good  and  pure.  A  thousand  tender  memories  rushed 
over  his  heart,  and  for  the  moment  unmanned  him. 

After  a  few  moments,  he  took  the  ring,  locket,  and 
bracelet,  laid  them  upon  the  rock  at  his  feet,  and 
with  the  heel  of  his  boot  ground  them  to  splinters. 

"  Thus  perishes,"  he  exclaimed,  "  the  last  link  of 
the  fatal  chain  that  bound  me  to  an  evil  destiny. 
Now  commences  the  work  of  expiation.  Though 
I  have  lost  the  peace  of  Innocence,  with  Heaven's 
help,  I  may  yet  possess  the  happiness  of  Virtue." 
And  he  walked  away  through  the  darkness. 


PROLOGUE. 


THE  HELF-vVCCUSED 


tears  of  pity  o'er  a  brother's  fall, 
Nor  dwell  with  bitterness  upon  his  fault ; 
The  grace  and  love  of  GOD  hold  thee— hold  all ; 

Were  they  withdrawn,  thou,  too,  would'st  surely  halt." 


II. 


HE  worthy  Knights  of    the  Temple 
had  assembled  in  full  force,  at  their 
regular  convocation,  in  the  month  of 
June,   18  . . ,  in  the   city  of . . . . ,   to 
celebrate  their  mysteries,  transact  the  business 
pertaining  to  their  cornmandery,  and  to  con 
sider  whatever  might  be  presented  of  interest 
SL  to  them,  or  in  any  way  connected  with   the 
welfare  of  that  ancient  fraternity. 

The  opening  ceremonies  had  scarcely  concluded, 
and  the  order  of  regular  business  opened,  when  one 
of  the  Knights  arose,  and,  advancing  to  the  Grand 
Commander,  placed  a  paper  in  his  hands,  and  then, 
turning  to  the  Knights,  addressed  them  thus  : 

"  Sir  Knights  and  Brothers  of  the  Order  of  the 
Temple  :  you  behold  an  erring  and  penitent  brother, 
who,  overwhelmed  with  shame,  comes  before  you  to 
confess  his  fault,  and  receive  with  resignation  and 
humility  whatever  punishment  your  wisdom  and 
justice  may  see  fit  to  ordain.  The  paper  now  in  the 
hands  of  the  111/.  Grand  Commander  contains  the 
particulars  of  his  error.  Feeling  unworthy  longer 
to  be  numbered  among  you,  he  desires  to  lay  aside 


22  SIGNET  OF   KINO   SOLOMON. 

all  that  pertains  to  liis  knightly  state,  except  its 
memories,  and  have  his  name  erased  from  the  roll  of 
membership." 

At  this  unexpected  announcement,  the  Knights 
were  thunderstruck.  Captain  THORNBURY  was  one 
of  their  most  distinguished  members,  unusually 
learned  in  the  lore  of  that  mystic  institution,  which, 
descending  from  the  dawn  of  time,  has  in  all  ages 
labored  to  overcome  the  antagonisms  of  society,  and 
unite  the  hostile  nations  in  brotherly  confidence  and 
friendship.  That  lie,  of  all  others,  should  thus 
stand  before  them  self-condemned  was  too  much 
for  belief. 

After  a  painful  silence  of  some  minutes,  the  Grand 
Commander  arose,  and  thus  addressed  the  astonished 
commandery : 

"  True  it  is,  our  brother  has  been  led  into  tempta 
tion,  and  persuaded  into  a  grave  error;  but  the 
voluntary  confession  he  has  made,  and  the  exceeding- 
tenderness  of  conscience  which  moved  him  to  make 
that  confession,  when  the  secret  was  known  only  to 
himself  and  his  GOD,  and  could  be  known  to  no 
others,  but  by  his  own  co-operation,  prove  that  his 
soul  is  in  sympathy  with  virtue,  and  that  his  heart 
has  passed  uncorrupted  through  that  fiery  experience. 
Nevertheless,  he  has  broken  the  rules  of  his  Order, 
and  it  is  fitting  that  you  prescribe  some  punishment, 
and  it  remains  for  you  to  say  what  it  shall  be." 

"Let  the  Grand  Commander  decide,"  was  the 
unanimous  voice  of  the  commandery. 


THE   SELF-ACCUSED.  23 

"Let  it  be  so,  then,"  responded  the  chief;  and, 
addressing  himself  to  the  self-accused  Knight,  who 
was  kneeling  at  the  altar,  he  proceeded :  "  Unfor 
tunate  brother,  when  you  were  invested  with  the 
dignity  of  a  Knight,  you  made  a  solemn  vow,  under 
the  Arch  of  Steel,  to  obey  all  the  rules  of  our  Order, 
and  bow  to  its  degrees.  Will  you  accept,  in  humility 
and  meekness,  the  sentence  I  am  about  to  pro 
nounce  ?  " 

"  I  will,"  was  the  earnest  response. 

"Listen,  then,'' resumed  the  Grand  Commander. 
"When  Adam  lost  his  integrity,  through  the  per 
suasion  of  woman,  the  doom  of  labor  was  pronounced 
upon  him,  and  has  descended  to  all  his  race.  And 
it  is  only  thus  that  sin  can  be  atoned  for,  and  its 
effects  destroyed.  The  righteous  Judge  undoubtedly 
ordained  this  doom,  because  he  foresaw  that  the 
punishment  itself  would  become  a  means  of  redemp 
tion.  While  marching  and  exploiting  painfully  in 
the  path  of  expiation,  humanity  advances  in  the  way 
of  perfection.  Labor,  the  great  penalty  announced 
for  the  sin  of  man,  has  transfigured  the  world,  and 
disenthralled  the  race.  Civilization,  social  institu 
tions,  art,  science,  literature,  philosophy — all  that  if 
great  and  good,  or  beautiful  and  noble  in  life — 
behold,  these  are  the  fruits  of  labor,  that  ex 
piatory  labor  which  while  it  atones  for  the  sin  of  the 
world,  also  redeems  it.  Such  is  the  nature  of  the 
Divine  punishment.  Also,  when  one  of  our  ancient 
brethren  sinned  against  the  rules  of  his  fraternity, 


24  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

liis  peers,  in  imitation  of  the  heavenly  order,  imposed 
upon  him  the  sentence  of  labor ;  and  upon  the  arid 
plains,  and  under  the  burning  sky  of  Syria  and 
Judea,  must  he  labor,  in  expiation  of  his  fault,  pro 
tecting  the  defenseless  and  the  weak,  succoring  the 
distressed,  and  periling  life  in  the  sublime  work  of 
"rescuing  the  Sepulchre  of  the  Crucified  from  the 
possession  of  the  unholy  children  of  Mohammed. 
Following,  then,  the  Divine  idea,  and  the  example 
of  our  ancient  brethren,  this  commandery  decrees 
that,  for  one  year  and  a  day,  you  devote  yourself  to 
tlte  service  of  Humanity.  Go  forth,  and  perform  the 
several  labors  which  are  demanded  of  a  Knight  of  the 
Temple  and  Holy  /Sepulchre.  Watch  over  the  de 
fenseless  and  helpless  ;  console  the  sorrowful ;  relieve 
the  distressed ;  lead  the  erring  and  sinful  into  the 
ways  of  repentance  and  virtue.  Frustrate  the  evil 
machinations  of  the  wicked,  who  seek  to  despoil  the 
widow  and  the  orphan.  These  are  the  labors  to 
which  you  are  sent.  Perform  them  faithfully,  and 
the  sins  shall  be  effaced  from  your  knightly  es 
cutcheon  ;  peace  shall  return  to  your  suffering  heart, 
and  the  grace  of  charity  shall  wash  away  your  sin. 
Sir  Knights  of  the  Temple,  let  us  all  take  warning 
from  the  sorrows  of  our  unfortunate  friend,  and 
never  lose  sight  of  the  moral  obligations  imposed  on 
us  by  our  knightly  vows.  Forget  not  that  we,  too, 
have  faults  to  expiate  by  works  of  charity  and  love. 
Following  the  illustrious  examples  of  DE  MOLAY 
and  GUIEO,  the  two  great  martyrs  of  our  Order,  we 


THE    SELF-ACCUSED.  25 

can  meet  life — its  duties,  trials  and  griefs — with  for 
titude  ;  or  death,  in  whatever  form  it  comes,  with 
firmness,  confidence,  and  hope.  And  when  at  last 
we  stand  before  the  Grand  Commander  of  the 
Universe,  we  shall  hear  the  approving  words  :  '  Well 
done,  good  and  faithful  servants,  friends  of  GOD  and 
humanity,  defenders  of  virtue  and  innocence,  ascend 
to  your  reward. ' ' 

The  Grand  Commander,  then  approaching  the 
penitent  Knight,  laid  his  hand  upon  his  head, 
saying : 

"Have  courage,  brother.  Go,  in  the  name  of 
GOD  ;  march  in  the  path  of  penitence.  Hemem- 
ber  Golgotha !  A  suffering  world  calls  you  to  its 
service,  and  that  service  comprises  the  seven  sacred 
labors  of  Masonry,  which  are  :  1st,  Feed  the  hungry ; 
2d,  Give  drink  to  the  thirsty  ;  3d,  Clothe  the  naked 
with  a  garment ;  4th,  Visit  and  ransom  captives ; 
5th,  Harbor  the  homeless — give  the  orphan  and 
widow  where  to  lay  their  heads ;  6th,  Relieve  the 
sick ;  7th,  Bury  the  dead.  And  now,  Sir  Knights," 
he  added,  "  let  this  commandery  be  closed. 

' In  nomeni  Patris  Filii,  et  Spiritus  Sancti.'" 


TJHGE  SURPRISE, 


4  SHE  was  a  phantom  of  delight, 
When  first  she  gleamed  upon  my  sigh* ; 
A  lovely  apparition,  sent 
To  be  my  being's  ornament." 


CHAPTEE  I. 


N  the  north  part  of  the  village, 
where  our  first  scene  transpired, 
on  a  considerable  elevation  of 
land,  overlooking  the  sea,  and  nearly  concealed  from 
the  view  of  one  passing  in  the  road  by  shrubbery 
and  trees,  stands  a  pretty  cottage,  one  of  those  cosy 


30  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

and  delightful  retreats  which  always  draw  the  atten 
tion  and  elicit  the  remarks  of  travelers. 

The  door  was  protected  by  a  porch  of  lattice 
work,  one  side  of  which  was  shaded  and  completely- 
covered  by  woodbine,  and  the  other  by  a  climbing 
rose-bush,  which  at  this  time  was  loaded  with  thou 
sands  of  flowers.  The  exceeding  neatness  of  the 
place,  and  the  unostentatious  elegance  of  its  environ 
ments,  plainly  indicated  the  refined  and  cultivated 
tastes  of  the  occupants. 

This  was  the  home  of  MABY  MORE.  The  eldest 
of  three  children,  she  resided  with  her  mother, 
who,  being  a  lady  of  intelligence  and  culture,  had 
herself  taken  charge  of  the  education  of  her 
daughters ;  and,  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  few  young 
ladies  could  boast  of  more  accomplishments,  both 
ornamental  and  useful,  than  MARY. 

Her  father,  a  worthy  and  much-respected  sea 
captain,  had  died  some  years  before,  leaving  his 
sorrow-stricken  widow  his  blessing,  the  memory  of 
his  great  love — to  her  the  most  inestimable  of 
treasures — the  cottage  in  which  she  dwelt,  and  a 
small  income,  scarcely  sufficient  to  provide  the  bare 
necessities  of  life.  The  brave  and  loving  woman 
did  not,  however,  shrink  from  the  heavy  burden  she 
must  now  bear  alone ;  but,  devoting  herself  exclu 
sively  to  her  children  and  the  remembrance  of  her 
adored  husband,  and  supported  by  an  earnest  and 
trustful  faith  in  him  who  had  promised  to  be  "a 
father  to  the  fatherless  and  the  widow's  GOD,"  she 


THE   SURPRISE.  31 

battled  victoriously  with  the  perplexities  and  hard 
experiences  of  life. 

Still  young  and  beautiful,  she  steadily  refused  all 
offers  of  a  second  marriage,  believing,  with  the 
mother  of  ST.  AUGUSTINE,  that  the  bond  which  bound 
her  to  her  husband  was  eternal,  and  she  desired  to 
meet  him  again,  a  pure  and  faithful  wife,  and  repose 
in  his  bosom  in  heaven. 

Yet,  with  all  her  efforts  to  provide  for  her  family, 
she  would  have  been  sadly  perplexed  at  times,  and 
suffered  severe  deprivations,  had  she  not  periodically 
received  aid,  which  came  to  her  with  the  greatest 
regularity,  and  in  such  a  mysterious  manner,  that 
she  never  could  get  any  clue  to  her  invisible  bene 
factors. 

MARY,  now  a  young  lady  of  eighteen,  had  inherited 
all  the  amiable  qualities  of  both  her  parents.  Lov 
ing,  truthful,  pure-minded,  and  pious,  she  was  a 
universal  favorite.  She  could  adapt  herself  to  all 
society — the  old,  the  young,  the  gay,  or  the  sorrowful. 
The  poor  idolized  her,  for  she  was  always  ready  to 
help  in  any  time  of  need.  With  gentle  patience  she 
would  watch  with  the  sick,  and  had  a  sweet  smile 
and  kind  word  for  all.  And  her  beauty  was  as  rare 
as  the  qualities  of  her  heart  were  excellent.  Her 
figure  was  of  medium  size,  well  developed  and  finely 
proportioned ;  her  large  black  eyes  gleamed  with  soul 
and  intelligence  ;  her  hands  were  delicately  small, 
white,  and  soft ;  and  her  feet  were  of  the  most  aris 
tocratic  mould.  But  the  most  beautiful  thing  about 


32  SIGNET  OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

this  divine  creature  was  her  entire  unconsciousness 
of  the  possession  of  such  matchless  charms.  Meek 
and  artless,  she  had  never  thought  of  her  personal 
attractions;  nor,  as  is  too  often  the  case  with 
beauties,  calculated  their  value  in  the  market  of 
matrimony.  Beared  in  seclusion,  her  tastes  were 
simple ;  she  knew  nothing  of  the  temptations  and 
snares  of  the  world,  nor  of  the  vices — the  fatal  and 
numerous  progeny  of  passion  and  interest — which 
shame  humanity,  and  make  the  angels  weep  over  its 
fallen  estate.  Such  was  MARY  MORE. 

The  shades  of  evening  were  falling  quietly  and 
softly  around  the  little  cottage,  and  Mrs.  MORE  and 
her  daughters,  seated  at  the  windows  of  their  neat 
drawing-room,  were  enjoying  a  view  of  the  sea, 
which  from  this  point  affords  a  prospect  sublimely 
impressive.  A  vase  of  flowers  stood  on  the  table, 
and  filled  the  room  with  a  delightful  fragrance, 
which,  with  the  lulling  melody  of  the  evening  breeze, 
and  soft  murmuring  of  the  sea,  seemed  to  have  led 
the  inmates  into  a  deep  reverie.  Even  little  AGNES, 
the  youngest  daughter,  a  beautiful  little  witch, 
always,  singing  and  dancing,  was  now  silent,  and 
looked  out,  with  her  large  and  wrondering  eyes,  upon 
the  softly-murmuring  ocean. 

EMMA,  the  second  daughter,  a  lovely  girl  of  six 
teen,  leaning  back  in  her  chair,  had  closed  her  eyes, 
and  seemed  to  be  communing  with  herself.  Mrs. 
MORE,  still  a  beautiful  woman  in  the  prime  of  life, 
with  her  fine  countenance  and  dark,  earnest  eyes, 


THE    SURPBISE. 


was  reclining  upon  the  embrasure  of  the  window, 
and  seemed  contemplating  some  object  on  the  shore. 

MARY  sat  silently  regarding  her  mother.  Her  dark 
eyes  shone  with  filial  reverence,  pride,  and  love. 

It  was  a  beautiful  group  to  contemplate  —  this 
mother  and  her  three  daughters  —  so  united,  so  ten 
der,  so  loving  ;  apparently  so  weak  and  helpless,  and 
yet  so  strong  in  their  great  affection,  their  mutual 
faith  and  trust. 

MARY,  wTho  had  not  removed  her  eyes  from  her 
mother  for  some  time,  arose,  went  softly  to  her  side, 
stooped  down,  and  kissed  her;  then  sinking  down 
on  her  knees  at  her  feet,  and  looking  up  inquiringly 
into  her  face,  she  said  : 

"  Mother,  dear  mother,  you  are  sad  to-night  ; 
something  troubles  you.  What  have  you  been  think 
ing  of  that  could  so  distress  you?  " 

As  Mrs.  MORE  turned  her  face  downward  on  her 
child,  one  could  plainly  see  she  had  been  weeping. 

"  Yes,  my  love,"  she  replied,  "  I  am  sad  to-night. 
As  I  sat  here,  observing  the  lengtheniug  shadows 
creeping  down  toward  the  sea,  I  felt  a  shadow 
gathering  around  my  heart,  which,  in  its  throbbings, 
seemed  to  prophesy  some  coming  woe." 

"  Oh  !  no,  mother  ;  it  is  nothing  ;  you  are  weary, 
and  need  rest.  Come,  I'll  sing  for  you,  and  cheer 
you  up." 

"  Not  now,  my  child,"  she  replied  ;  "  I  was  also 
thinking  that  in  a  few  days  you  will  be  far,  far  away 
among  strangers,  and  we  shall  not  see  you  for  many 


34  8IGNET   OF  KINQ    SOLOMON. 

long,  long  months.  I  almost  repent  that  I  gave  my 
consent  to  your  engagement.  You  are  too  young  to 
assume  the  charge  of  a  school  like  that.  Besides, 
you  are  an  artless,  inexperienced  girl ;  and  Heaven 
only  knows  Avhat  trials  and  griefs  may  meet  you  on 
your  path." 

"  Dearest  mother,  do  not  give  way  to  such  gloomy 
fancies,"  replied  MARY.  "  GOD  will  protect  me  ;  and 
only  think  what  a  help  I  shall  be  to  you !  You  have 
reared  me,  labored  hard  to  prepare  me  for  usefulness, 
and  now  I  must  repay  your  love  and  self-sacrificing 
devotion,  by  laboring  for  you.  How  much  I  can  do 
also  for  EMMA  and  little  AGGIE,  with  my  five  hundred 
dollars  a  year ! "  And  the  brave,  hopeful  girl 
clapped  her  hands  with  delight,  as  she  contemplated 
the  good  she  would  accomplish  for  her  beloved 
mother  and  sisters. 

The  moon  had  now  risen,  shooting  out  of  the 
ocean  like  a  golden  ball,  and  trailing  her  silvery 
drapery  along  the  sea,  lighted  up  the  little  drawdng- 
room  with  her  mild  splendors.  The  night-scene 
was  grandly  beautiful,  defying  ah1  description.  The 
water,  land,  houses,  trees,  all  seemed  to  float  in  an 
ocean  of  liquid  silver. 

"Oh,  how  enchanting ! "  exclaimed  MARY,  going 
to  the  window,  and  looking  out  through  the  trees. 
"  What  a  beautiful  world ! "  she  continued,  "  and 
how  kind  and  good  must  be  its  maker,  who  has 
clothed  it  with  so  many  splendors,  thereby  affording 
us  so  much  enjoyment  in  its  contemplation  " 


THE   SURPRISE.  35 

"Yes,  it  is  a  beautiful  world!"  responded  the 
mother,  who,  having  withdrawn  for  a  moment,  'now 
returned  with,  a  light,  which  she  placed  upon  the 
piano,  "  and  let  us  be  thankful  to  the  good  GOD  who 
has  mad  it  so." 

Mrs.  MORE  kissed  the  two  elder  girls,  and  taking 
AGGIE  by  the  hand,  retired  to  her  chamber. 

"  Come,  MARY,  said  EMMA,  "  let  us  go,  too  ;  I  am 
sleepy." 

"  Why,  it  is  early,  yet ;  it  seems  to  me  you  are 
always  sleepy,  my  sweet  sister,"  replied  MARY  ; 
"  you  can  retire,  if  you  will,  but  I  want  to  practice 
some  of  my  music  first."  And  she  seated  herself  at 
the  piano. 

"  Ah !  ah !  sister  mine,"  exclaimed  EMMA,  while  her 
eyes  twinkled  with  a  merry  light,  "you  can't  deceive 
me.  I  see  how  it  is  ;  you  don't  know  but  somebody 
may  call." 

"Why,  how  can  you,  EMMA!"  responded  MARY, 
deprecatingly ;  but  a  blush  on  her  cheek,  and  a  little 
roguish  smile,  which,  in  spite  of  herself,  appeared 
in  the  corner  of  her  pretty  mouth,  proved  plainly 
enough  that  the  young  sister's  conjecture  was  not 
without  foundation. 

"Well,  no  matter,  MARY,"  resumed  EMMA;  "you 
may  sit  up  till  morning,  if  you  desire ;  so  kiss  me 
good  night,  and  I'll  be  off." 

MARY  played  several .  pieces ;  but  although  her 
execution  was  good,  it  was  evident  that  at  this  time 
her  heart  was  not  in  the  piano ;  and,  after  a  short 


36  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

time,  she  closed  the  instrument,  and,  seating  herself 
at  the  window,  looked  out  into  the  glorious  night. 

She  had  not  long  been  at  the  window,  when  a 
slight  rustling  was  heard  among  the  shrubbery. 

She  started  up,  with  a  smile  of  pleasure  playing 
on  her  beautiful  face ;  for,  to  confess  the  truth,  she 
was  expecting  her  affianced  lover,  EDWIN  MORLEY. 

She  ran  out  of  the  cottage  into  the  graveled  walk 
to  meet  him ;  and  holding  out  both  hands  to  welcome 
him,  as  he  came  up  through  the  shade,  exclaimed : 

"  Dear,  dear  ED: — ."  She  did  not  finish  the  sen 
tence.  She  was  paralyzed  with  consternation ;  for, 
on  looking  up,  instead  of  meeting  the  frank  and  open 
countenance  of  EDWIN  MOELEY,  the  sinister  eyes  of 
MATTHEW  ORALL  were  devouring  her  with  their  un 
holy  fires. 

She  had  been  taken  so  entirely  by  surprise  that 
it  was  some  time  before  she  could  recover  herself 
enough  to  speak,  although  she  instinctively  removed 
farther  from  him. 

"  Mr.  ORALL,"  at  length  she  had  strength  to  say, 
"  what  business  brings  you  here  at  this  late  hour  ?  " 

"  O !  your  question  is  easily  answered,  my  pretty 
bird,"  he  replied,  with  a  bow.  "  The  beauty  of  the 
night  brought  me  out  of  doors,  and  the  particular 
beauty  who  reigns  here  among  the  flowers  as  queen 
has  drawn  me  to  this  spot." 

"  You  will  preserve  your  compliments  for  some  one 
else,  Mr.  ORALL  ;  I  bid  you  good  night ; "  and  she 
turned  to  go  into  the  house. 


THE   SUBPBIBE.  37 

He  seized  her  by  the  arm,  exclaiming,  "  You  don't 
escape  me  so  easily,  my  sweet  flower ;  you  must  hear 
me.-  I  have  long  been  a  worshiper  of  your  beauty, 
and  now  I  love  you  deeply,  truly,  madly.  I  offer  you 
my  hand  and  my  heart." 

"  Mr.  ORALL,  let  me  go.  A  gentleman  would  not 
treat  a  defenseless  girl  thus.  I  entreat  you  to 
release  me ;  my  heart  is  irrevocably  given  to  another ; 
and  were  it  not  so,  I  never  could  love  you." 

ORALL  trembled  with  rage  and  passion.  "  By  the 
furies ! "  he  howled,  "  you  shall  be  my  wife,  or  suffer 
my  vengeance." 

He  caught  the  fainting  girl  in  his  arms,  and  was 
bearing  her  off,  when  a  powerful  blow  sent  him  head 
long  among  the  shrubbery ;  at  the  same  time  the 
poor  girl  was  laid  gently  on  the  grass.  The  same 
strong  arm  seized  OIULL  by  the  shoulder,  and  thrust 
him  out  of  the  gate. 

"  MATTHEW  ORALL,"  said  a  low,  stern  voice,  which 
made  the  villain  tremble,  "  I  know  you  well.  Trouble 
this  child  again,  and  you  shall  repent  it  to  the  day 
of  your  death." 

Returning,  the  stranger  took  the  young  girl  in  his 
arms,  carried  her  into  the  house,  and  laid  her  on  a 
couch.  As  she  already  showed  signs  of  returning 
consciousness,  he  refrained  from  alarming  the  family. 
Taking  a  glass  of  water,  which  chanced  oppor 
tunely  to  be  on  a  table  near  by,  he  sprinkled  it  over 
her  face  and  temples.  The  simple  application  was 
successful ;,  she  soon  revived,  and,  starting  up,  looked 


38  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

wonderingly  around  the  room,  and  then  fixed  an 
inquiring  glance  upon  the  stranger,  who  stood  before 
her  with,  folded  arms,  observing  her  with  tender 
interest. 

He  was  a  gentleman,  apparently  about  thirty  years 
of  age,  dressed  in  a  complete  suit  of  black,  and  the 
broad  band  of  black  crape  upon  his  hat,  as  well  as 
the  expression  of  sorrow  which  appeared  on  his 
intelligent  face,  indicated  that  his  heart  was  filled 
with  the  memory  of  some  recent  affliction.  His 
bright,  blue  eyes  beamed  with  a  benignant  luster, 
and  all  the  features  of  his  countenance  revealed  a 
character  of  marked  individuality — firm,  benevolent, 
and  just.  His  long  dark  hair,  which  hung  in  clus 
tering  curls  around  his  neck,  and  heavy  moustache, 
gave  him  an  aspect  somewhat  foreign.  His  general 
appearance,  together  with  the  large  jet-black  cross, 
bearing  the  legend,  "  IN  HOC  SIGNO  VINCES,"  which  he 
wore  suspended  from  his  watch-guard,  would  call  to 
mind  one  of  those  ancient  Knights  who  were  bound 
by  their  solemn  vows  to  defend  the  oppressed,  and 
aid  the  children  of  misfortune. 

At  last,  breaking  the  silence,  he  said  : 
"  My  child,  you  have  escaped  a  great  danger." 
"Oh!  sir!"  exclaimed  MARY,  now  fully  restored, 
"  how  can  I  ever  repay  you  for  the   great   service 
you  have  rendered  me?" 

"  Thank  GOD,  young  lady,  that  I  was  near  to  aid 
you,"  he  replied  solemnly.  "  As  for  myself,  it  is  my 
duty  to  protect  the  defenseless,  and  watch  over  inno- 


THE   SURPRISE.  39 

cence.  Poor  child,"  he  continued,  "you  are  about 
going  out  to  struggle  with  a  hard  and  selfish  world. 
You  must  prepare  yourself  for  painful  experiences, 
bitter  griefs  and  wasting  sorrows.  Clouds  are  even 
now  gathering  around  your  innocent  head,  and  dark 
spirits  are  inventing  schemes  to  bring  you  to  harm. 
But  Heaven  will  protect  you.  Be  firm,  strong,  and 
faithful,  and,"  (extending  toward  her  a  cross,  which 
he  had  taken  in  his  hand,)  "by  this  sign  you  ivitt 
conquer." 

Struck  by  his  prophetic  words,  MARY  had  bowed 
her  head  upon  her  breast,  and  when  she  again  raised 
it,  the  mysterious  stranger  had  disappeared.  The 
more  she  meditated  his  words,  the  deeper  grew  her 
wonder. 

"  Who  is  this  man  ?  "  she  said  to  herself.  "  He 
seems  to  know  me,  and  my  plans  for  the  future.  He 
spoke  of  gathering  clouds  and  dangers.  What  can 
he  mean  ?  " 

Failing  to  find  any  satisfactory  reply  to  her  ques 
tionings,  she  arose,  closed  and  fastened  the  windows 
and  door,  and  retired  to  her  chamber,  repeating  to 
herself  the  last  words  of  her  defender:  "Be  firm, 
strong,  and  faithful."  "Yes,"  she  added,  "I  will 
follow  his  advice,  and,  by  the  power  of  the  cross,  I 
will  conquer." 

Although  she  could  not  comprehend  how  enemies 
and  danger  should  surround  her,  whose  life  had 
been  so  harmless  and  inoffensive,  she  yet  felt  a 
vague  uneasiness  or  fear  of,  she  knew  not  what — a 


40  SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

certain  presentiment  of  some  approaching  sorrow. 
But  the  words  of  the  stranger,  while  they  .alarmed, 
also  reassured  her ;  for  if  he  spoke  of  secret  foes  and 
dangers,  did  he  not  also  speak  of  victory,  and  a 
divine  protection? 

Taking,  therefore,  the  stranger's  motto  as  her  own, 
she  resolved  to  meet  the  events  of  life  with  boldness 
and  fortitude,  relying  on  her  own  resources,  the 
honesty  of  her  purposes,  and  the  purity  of  her 
motives.  She  sought  her  pillow,  and,  with  a  prayer 
on  her  lips  for  her  mother  and  sisters,  the  stranger, 
and  EDWIN  MORLEY,  she  passed  away  into  the  land 
of  dreams. 


MA.Y   MILLWOOD. 


"  OH!  wretch  without  a  tear — without  a  thought, 
Save  joy  above  the  ruin  thou  hast  wrought ; 
The  time  shall  come,  nor  long  remote,  when  thou 
Shalt  feel  far  more  than  thou  inflictest  now; 
Feel  for  thy  vile  self-loving  self  in  vain, 
And  turn  thee  howling  in  unpitied  pain." 


CHAPTER  H. 

HE  same  night  on  which,  the  scenes 
just  described  took  place,  MAY  MILL 
WOOD  was  seated  at  a  table  in  her 
solitary  chamber,  apparently  wrapt 
in  gloomy  meditations.  The  beaming  glory  of 
the  evening,  which  fell  in  silvery  showers  on 
all  things  without,  cast  no  gentle  ray  of  peace 
or  light  into  the  dark  chambers  of  her  per 
verse  spirit.  Her  elbows  resting  on  the  table,  and 
her  head  bowed  upon  her  hands,  which  convulsively 
pressed  her  brow,  she  sat  there  a  long  time  in  silence. 
Judging  from  the  haggard  expression  of  her  features, 
her  self-communings  could  not  have  been  of  the 
most  agreeable  character. 

It  was  a  sad  spectacle  to  behold — this  girl,  so 
young,  so  capable,  so  artless,  and  innocent  in  ap 
pearance,  and  yet  so  experienced  in  the  ways  of  evil. 
She  had  early  chosen  the  path  of  sin,  and  rapidly 
traversed  its  fatal  course,  it  seemed  that  now  con 
science  itself  had  abdicated  its  throne  in  her  breast, 
and  every  womanly  virtue  had  been  banished  from 
her  heart.  And  yet  who  can  say  that  this  young 
girl,  now  so  fallen,  had  she  been  reared  under  dif- 


44  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

ferent  influences,  watched  over  by  loving  ej-es, 
shielded  by  the  strong  arm  of  parental  affection,  and 
breathing  the  sweet,  pure  atmosphere  of  peace  and 
love,  might  not  have  been  one  of  the  most  brilliant 
ornaments  of  her  sex,  and  a  blessing  to  the  world? 

Her  father  was  a  dark  and  stern  man — gloomy, 
discontented,  and  morose.  He  never  laughed,  but 
with  a  sardonic  sneer  at  the  fancied  vices  of  his 
neighbors  and  the  world,  and  he  affected  to  believe 
that  every  thing  in  society  was  wrong,  and  every 
man  a  knave  but  himself.  A  reformer,  he  had  all  the 
inconsistencies  of  those  who  assume  that  character; 
forgetting  that  reformation  must  begin  at  home, 
and  exhibiting  an  insane  hatred  to  all  institutions 
through  which  alone  reform  becomes  possible.  He 
denounced  the  Church,  the  Bible,  institutions  of 
religion,  and  especially  the  Order  of  Freemasonry, 
because  all  these  rebuked  his  narrow-minded  and 
fanatical  theories  of  society.  Defying  the  opinions 
of  society  and  the  common  sense  of  mankind,  he 
recognized  no  law  or  rule  of  conduct  other  than 
interest,  or  his  own  individual  will  or  judgment. 
His  dark  features  were  never  lighted  up  with  a 
genial  smile,  and  his  heart  seemed  to  be  incapable 
of  those  sweet  affections  and  emotions  of  tenderness 
which,  gushing  forth  in  their  unrestrained  fullness  to 
wife  and  children,  make  home  an  image  of  the  har 
mony  and  bliss  of  heaven. 

Her  mother  was  weak  and  ignorant,  careless  of 
her  personal  appearance,  having  no  spirit  of  order 


MAY   MILLWOOD.  45 

nor  notions  of  neatness ;  and,  consequently,  her 
house  was  always  in  confusion ;  while  she  and  her 
children  presented  a  picture  of  the  most  disagreeable 
untidiness.  Restless  and  discontented,  gloomy  and 
fretful,  like  her  husband,  with  whom  she  was  ever 
quarreling,  she  was  poorly  calculated  to  discharge  a 
mother's  duties  toward  the  tender  children  which 
GOD  had  given  to  her  care.  The  spirit  of  discord 
seemed  to  be  the  presiding  genius  of  the  house. 
The  loving  smile,  the  kind  word,  the  deep  and 
intense  affection  which  fall  with  such  a  divine  in 
fluence  on  the  expanding  hearts  of  children,  like 
sunshine  and  dew  upon  the  opening  flowers,  were 
there  unknown.  An  everlasting  shadow  gloomed 
over  that  wretched  abode. 

Such  was  the  home  of  MAY  MILLWOOD  ;  and  in  the 
presence  of  such  examples,  and  constantly  breathing 
such  a  pestiferous  atmosphere,  a  very  perfect  speci 
men  of  female  virtue  could  hardly  be  expected.  As 
she  grew  to  girlhood,  finding  no  love  nor  sympathy 
at  home,  she  spent  much  of  her  time  in  the  streets, 
and  her  chosen  associates  were  not  always  persons 
of  pure  tastes  and  elevated  sentiments.  In  truth, 
either  through  accident,  or  the  latent  viciousness  of 
her  own  heart,  she  was  usually  found  in  the  society 
of  persons  of  quite  opposite  character.  The  unchaste 
conversations  and  indelicate  songs  of  her  companions 
soon  crowded  her  young  mind  with  voluptuous 
images,  and  aroused  fearfully  all  the  baser  passions 
of  her  nature. 


46  SIGNET   OF    KING    SOLOMON. 

m 

Becoming  acquainted  with  MATTHEW  ORALL,  a  man 
of  depraved  sentiments  and  habits,  she  soon  fell 
under  his  influence,  and  he  completed  her  education 
in  vice  by  corrupting  her  reason,  and  perverting  her 
conscience,  as  others  had  corrupted  her  passions  and 
perverted  her  womanly  instincts. 

Thus,  at  twenty- three  years  of  age,  possessing 
talents  of  a  high  order,  a  respectable  education,  and 
superior  personal  attractions,  and  assuming  also  the 
garb  of  piety,  constant  in  her  attendance  at  church 
and  in  the  Sabbath  school,  she  was  capable  of 
deceiving  a  saint.  She  was  not  without  intellectual 
tastes;  an  extensive  reader,  she  was  well-informed, 
and  could  converse  with  intelligence  and  spirit  on 
any  subject. 

Meeting  Captain  TIIORNBURY  in  society,  she  soon 
conceived  for  him  a  passion  as  deep  and  earnest  as 
her  fickle  nature  was  capable  of.  Plying  all  her 
seductive  arts,  she  succeeded  in  winning  his  regard ; 
and  while  this  attachment  continued,  she  seemed  to 
show  some  signs  of  improvement,  and  symptoms  of 
a  growing  ambition  to  rise  to  a  nobler  and  better 
life.  But,  in  a  fatal  moment,  falling  again  into  the 
society  of  ORALL,  she  forgot  TIIORNBURY  and  her 
engagements  to  him,  and  left  him  an  inheritance  of 
misery  and  remorse. 

But  it  was  not  long  before  a  new  passion  took 
possession  of  the  soul  of  MAY  MILLWOOD.  She  had 
recently  met  EDWIN  MORLEY,  and  his  manly  beauty 
could  not  fail  deeply  to  impress  her  senses.  Although 


MAY   MILLWOOD.  47 

she  knew  of  his  engagement  with  MARY  MORE,  she 
put  all  her  arts  and  accomplishments  into  requisition 
to  attract  his  attention.  He  was  amused  by  her  wit, 
and  perhaps  a  little  dazzled  by  her  voluptuous 
beauty ;  but  the  superior  loveliness,  the  modest 
virtues,  and  deep  and  true  affection  of  MARY  MORE 
effectually  shielded  his  heart.  She  saw  this ;  and, 
filled  with  jealousy  and  rage  toward  that  lovely  girl, 
she  redoubled  her  attacks  upon  the  heart  of  MORLEY, 
resolving,  in  some  way  or  other,  to  win  him  for  a 
husband. 

At  length  she  aroused  herself  from  her  long 
reverie,  and  cast  her  eyes  over  some  papers  con 
taining  scraps  of  poetry,  which  were  scattered  care 
lessly  about  the  table.  She  selected  one,  and  laid  it 
before  her.  It  was  a  poem,  entitled  "  ALONE."  After 
perusing  it  silently  for  some  minutes,  she  exclaimed  : 
"  Can  it  be  that  these  lines,  written  four  years  ago, 
were  inspired  by  a  presentiment  of  my  possible  fate  ? 
His  terrible  wrords — how  strangely  they  respond  to 
the  desolate  sentiment  of  this  piece  !  l  Alone  !  alone  ! 
you  must  tread  the  path  cf  life  alone ! — alone  the 
path  of  expiation ! '  But  you  shall  not  triumph, 
JOHN  THORNBURY  !  I  defy  you.  I  will  not  accept 
the  doom  you  have  assumed  to  pronounce  upon 
me.  Through  whatever  infamies,  through  whatever 
crimes,  necessary  to  my  purpose,  will  I  pursue  my 
way  and  compass  my  end.  EDWIN  MORLEY  shall  be 
mine." 
At  this  moment  her  eyes  rested  on  a  piece  of  white 


48  SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

paper,  neatly  folded,  and  fastened  with  a  white  silken 
thread.  She  hastily  seized  it,  and  opening  it,  gazed 
long  upon  its  contents,  with  intense  interest.  It  con 
tained  simply  a  little  glossy  curl,  black  as  jet,  and 
almost  as  fine  as  gossamer.  She  pressed  it  to  her 
lips,  with  deep  emotion,  and  covered  it  with  kisses, 
exclaiming : 

"  Oh,  my  child !  my  darling,  lost  little  MAY  !  Shall 
I  ever  see  you  again  ?  " 

Memories  of  the  past  came  thronging  upon  her 
mind ;  her  better  nature  was  momentarily  aroused, 
and  she  wept  bitterly.  There,  in  the  midnight 
gloom,  a  little  baby-face,  sweet  as  paradise,  with  its 
smile-wreathed  lips  and  soft,  loving  eyes,  seemed  to 
look  upon  her  pleadingly,  like  an  angel  sent  to  arrest 
her  in  her  downward  course.  The  innocence  of 
infancy,  through  that  tiny  countenance  of  incom 
parable  beauty,  appealed  with  mute  but  moving 
eloquence  to  the  heart  of  the  fallen  girl — once  a 
child,  and  innocent  herself. 

Listen,  oh  MAY! — child  of  sin — to  these  earnest 
pleadings.  Let  the  innocence  which  smiles  on  that 
baby-face,  now  so  brightly  seen  in  your  memory,  be 
a  perpetual  conscience  to  lead  you  back  to  the  paths 
of  purity  and  virtue.  Who  knows  but  Heaven  has 
sent  you  this  vision  for  your  salvation  ? 

A  thought  like  this  evidently  possessed  her  at  the 
time ;  for,  pressing  her  hands  upon  her  heart,  she 
cried,  with  deep  emotion : 

"Oh,   THORNBURY!    THORNBURY!    you    are  right 


MAY   MILLWOOD.  49 

How  deeply  have  I  wronged  you,  and  your  great 
and  earnest  love !  The  doom  you  have  spoken 
against  me  is  just.  The  path  you  indicated  for  me 
henceforth  to  pursue  is  the  only  one  that  virtue  and 
honor  leave  open  for  me  now.  Yes,  I  will  tread  the 
path  of  life  alone." 

Again  kissing  the  little  ringlet,  she  refolded  it  in 
the  paper,  and  placed  in  her  bosom. 

She  arose  from  her  seat,  and  was  about  to  with 
draw,  when  she  was  startled,  to  find  that  she  wras 
not  alone.  Upon  a  sofa,  in  the  back  part  of  the 
room,  observing  her  with  a  sneering  smile,  sat 
MATTHEW  ORALL. 

After  being  foiled  in  his  villainous  attempt  to 
abduct  Miss  MOKE,  ORALL  paced  the  beach  for  a 
time,  like  an  enraged  tiger,  plotting  schemes  of 
vengeance.  It  was  low  twelve — the  hour  of  violence 
and  crime — before  he  thought  of  regaining  his 
lodgings.  Passing  along  the  street,  on  his  return, 
he  noticed,  as  he  approached  the  dwelling  of  MAY 
MILLWOOD,  a  light  in  the  room  usually  occupied  by 
her.  A  sudden  thought  seemed  to  strike  him,  and 
he  turned  and  walked  rapidly  toward  the  house. 
Noiselessly  opening  the  front  door,  he  stole  softly  in, 
and,  without  being  observed,  seated  himself  where 
he  was  discovered  by  MAY. 

After  gazing  at  each  other  for  some  time,  ORALL, 
at  length,  broke  the  silence,  by  exclaiming,  with 
a  scornful  laugh,  "So,  my  little  bird,  you  are  a 
penitent,  a  Magdalene,  and  really  believe  in  virtue  ?  " 


50 


SIGNET   OF   KING    SOLOMON. 


"  MATTHEW  ORALL,"  replied  the  girl,  with  some 
firmness — for  the  lovely  baby-face  yet  flitted  before 
the  eyes  of  her  soul — "  leave  me.  Your  pernicious 
lessons  have  led  me  to  my  ruin.  Nearly  all  the 


crimes  and  perfidies  with  which  my  life  is  stained 
are  the  result  of  your  teachings.  Through  you  I 
deceived  and  betrayed  Captain  THORNBURY.  one  of 
the  noblest  and  truest  of  men,  and  whom  I  really 
loved.  At  least,"  she  added,  as  she  saw  ORALL  smile 
incredulously,  "I  loved  him  more  than  Jean  ever 
love  any  other.'' 


MAY   MILLWOOD.  51 

"No  reproaches,  MAY,"  said  OKALL,  impatiently, 
"  we  are  partners  in  guilt,  and  have  no  right  to 
censure  each  other. 

"By  the  way,"  he  added,  "I  called  at  the  MORES 
this  evening." 

"Indeed,"  responded  the  girl,  "what  led  you 
there.?" 

"  Her  beauty,  and  my  love." 

"Your  love!"  exclaimed  MAY,  with  a  mocking 
laugh. 

"  Yes,  my  love ;  and  I  offered  her  my  hand  and 
my  heart." 

"Your  heart!"  she  replied  with  a  scornful  curl 
of  the  upper  lip. 

"Yes,  MAY,  my  heart,"  he  continued,  "or  what  I 
have  to  represent  that  precious  article  ;  for  you 
know  I  never  professed  to  be  largely  endowed  with 
such  a  commodity." 

"  Well ! "  said  MAY,  inquiringly. 

"She  rejected  me  with  scorn,"  replied  ORALL, 
grinding  his  teeth  with  rage,  while  his  eyes  gleamed 
with  a  fiendish  hate.  "  She  loves  EDWIN  MORLEY," 
he  continued,  "and  he  loves  her.  They  are  en 
gaged." 

MAY  started.  Her  countenance  underwent  a  sud 
den  transformation.  The  sorrowful,  almost  contrite 
expression,  faded  away,  and  one  of  fierce  hatred 
took  its  place. 

"  MATTHEW  ORALL,"  resumed  MAY,  after  a  pause, 
"  you  love  Miss  MORE." 


52  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

"  No,"  he  replied  fiercely ;  "  I  did  love  her,  but 
now  I  detest — I  hate  her.  I  now  seek  revenge." 

"Well,  OEALL,"  she  replied  quickly,  "you  shall 
have  it ;  and  I  will  aid  yo.u." 

Pause !  pause !  oh,  child  of  evil  destiny,  before  it 
is  too  late !  Look  again  on  that  sweet  little  face, 
those  soft  dark  eyes,  that  angel  smile,  sent  to  lead 
you  into  a  new  path — to  guide  you  to  virtue  and 
heaven.  Look !  oh  look !  that  vision  of  sweet  inno 
cence  is  already  floating,  floating  away  in  the  dark 
ness  ;  if  you  lose  it  now,  you  lose  it  forever ! 

"  ORALL,"  resumed  MAY,  "  7  love  also — I  love 
EDWIN  MORLEY." 

"Indeed!"  exclaimed  OEALL,  "you  astonish  me." 

"  Yes,"  she  continued,  "  I  love  MORLEY  ;  or,  in 
other  words,  I  like  him  well  enough  to  become  his 
wife,  and  his  wife  I  will  be." 

"But,"  said  OKALL,  "you  loved  THORNBURY;  you 
loved  me — and  now — " 

"No  matter" — she  interrupted  him  quickly — "let 
us  leave  the  past ;  so  far  as  you  and  I  were  con 
cerned,  we  only  deceived  each  other.  I  now  seek  a 
husband,  while  you  thirst  for  vengeance.  Assist  me 
in  my  purpose,  and  I  promise  that  you  shall  succeed 
in  yours." 

"Agreed,"  responded  ORALL;  "only  let  my  pur 
pose  of  vengeance  result  prosperously,  and  I  will  aid 
you  in  getting  a  thousand  husbands.  But  how  is 
this  to  be  done?" 

'•  Listen,"  replied  MAY.     "MARY  MORE  is  going,  in 


MAY   MILLWOOD.  53 

a  few  days,  to  New  York,  where  she  is  engaged  as  a 
teacher,  and  will  be  absent  a  year.  MOKLEY  is  weak, 
and  I  shall  have  opportunities  enough  to  gain  his 
esteem  and  love.  You  can  also  acquire  his  confi 
dence,  and  artfully  poison  his  mind  against  MARY. 
If  she  lose  him,  her  disappointment  will  be  a  suffi 
cient  punishment  for  having  rejected  you.  If,  how 
ever,  that  will  not  satisfy  you,  circumstances  can 
easily  be  contrived  to  compromise  her  reputation, 
and  thus  secure  you  a  full  revenge.  She  is  help 
less,  has  no  powerful  relatives,  and  is  wholly  in  your 
power." 

"  Your  plan  is  excellent,"  exclaimed  OEALL  ;  "  Satan 
himself  could  not  have  devised  a  better.  Fear  not 
but  I  will  do  my  part  in  its  execution ; "  and  he  arose 
and  departed,  stroking  his  beard  with  grim  satis 
faction. 

Left  alone,  MAY  mused  for  a  moment  on  her  dark 
schemes,  and  then  prepared  to  seek  her  pillow. 

But  no  refreshing  sleep  can .  be  yours,  oh !  lost, 
wretched  girl !  No  sweet  visions  will  ever  brighten 
your  dreams  again.  Lost !  lost !  lost !  gone,  the  last 
aspiration  to  goodness  !  Gone,  the  last  impulse  to  a 
virtuous  life!  The  angelic  baby-face  which  smiled 
upon  you  with  such  heaven-drawing  power  has  faded 
away  in  the  night-gloom,  and  will  never  return.  The 
little  gleam  of  light  which  shone  for  a  moment  on 
your  dark  soul  is  extinguished,  and  curtains  of  mid 
night  blackness  are  falling  around  your  heart,  to  be 
lifted  never  more — never  more  !  The  heavenly  hand 


SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

that  had  reached  down  from  above,  as  if  to  rescue 
you  from  the  dark  abyss,  has  been  withdrawn.  The 
smile  which  fell  upon  your  beclouded  heart,  like  a 
glimpse  of  Paradise,  opening  its  dark  chambers  to 
a  diviner  influence,  has  passed  away,  and  will  not 
come  again. 


SIGISTET  OF  SOLOMON. 


"And  who  so  cold  as  look  on  thee, 

Thou  lovely  wanderer,  and  be  less  ? 
Nor  be,  what  man  should  ever  be, 
The  friend  of  Beauty  in  distress/' 


CHAPTEK  III. 


ADNESS  and  sorrow  were  in  the 
V          house  of  Mrs.  MORE.     The  day 
had  come  when  MARY  was  to  set 
out  on  her  journey  to  New  York,  to  enter  on  her 
untried  labors  as  a  teacher  in  a  seminary  of  that 
city.     This  separation  filled  the  mother's  heart  with 
3* 


58  SIGNET  OF  KING  SOLOMON. 

unspeakable  grief.  She  had  misgivings,  such  as  a 
fond  parent  must  necessarily  feel,  about  allowing 
her  daughter,  so  young  and  artless,  so  beautiful  and 
trustful,  to  go  so  far  from  home,  among  strangers, 
and  with  no  protection  but  her  innocence.  More 
than  once  she  had  suggested  to  MARY  whether  it 
would  not  be  best,  even  now,  to  throw  up  the 
engagement,  and  remain  with  her  friends.  But  the 
ambitious  and  loving  girl,  although  her  heart  nearly 
burst  when  she  thought  of  parting  from  those  she 
loved  so  well,  could  not  relinquish  the  long-cherished 
idea  of  lightening  the  burden  which  bore  so  heavily 
upon  her  dear  mother,  by  her  own  labors.  While 
affection  strongly  urged  her  to  remain  at  home,  a 
sense  of  duty — it  seemed  to  her — commanded  her 
to  go. 

Mrs.  MORE,  who  had  spent  some  time  in  giving 
MARY  advice  and  counsel  in  regard  to  her  new 
position,  retired  from  the  room  to  make  the  last 
preparations  for  the  journey. 

MARY,  dressed  in  a  brown  traveling  habit,  fresh 
and  rosy  as  the  morning,  looked  more  lovely  than 
ever.  She  was  engaged  in  packing  away  in  one  of 
her  trunks  some  choice  books,  which  she  valued  as 
gifts  from  her  friends ;  while  her  sister  EMMA  was 
busy  in  arranging  some  little  mementos  of  maternal 
and  sisterly  affection  for  MARY  to  take  with  her  to 
her  new  home.  The  two  girls,  who  had  never  been 
separated  before,  were  too  sad  to  converse  much, 
and  silently  pursued  their  occupations, 


SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON.  59 

The  younger  sister,  AGGIE,  now  stole  softly  into 
the  room ;  for  her  little  heart,  too,  was  sorrowful  at 
the  thought  of  this  parting.  Approaching  her  elder 
sister,  she  laid  a  bunch  of  flowers  in  her  lap,  saying  : 
"  See,  dear  MARY,  what  a  beautiful  bouquet  I  have 
gathered  for  you.  I  want  you  to  take  it  with  you, 
and  then  you  will  not  forget  your  poor  AGGIE;" 
and  the  affectionate  child  raised  her  sweet  face  for 
a  kiss.  Mary  raised  the  little  girl  in  her  arms,  em 
braced  her  tenderly,  and  then  placed  her  in  a  chair 
by  her  side,  saying :  "  No,  my  sweet  one,  I  will  not 
forget  you." 

The  child  again  took  the  bouquet,  and  said : 
"  Look  here.  This  full-blown  rose,  in  the  center, 
I  have  called  '  MOTHER  ; '  that  musk-rose  is  '  EMMA  ; ' 
and  that  little  moss-rose  bud  is  '  AGGIE.'  I  have 
placed  a  thousand  kisses  on  them ;  so  every  day  you 
can  gather  a  kiss  frpm  mother,  EMMA,  and  me," 

"  And  have  you  given  me  a  place  among  them, 
also,  my  little  AGGIE  ?  "  said  the  earnest,  manly  voice 
of  EDWIN  M0RLEY,  who,  hearing  the  conversation,  as 
he  entered  the  hall,  paused  for  a  moment,  but  now 
stepped  into  the  sitting-room. 

"Yes,  MARY,"  quickly  replied  the  child,  "we'll 
name  a  flower  for  EDWIN  ;  but  what  shall  it  be  ?  A 
bachelor's  button  ?— No.  A  lily  ?— No.  Oh !  I  see  ; 
it  shall  be  that — sweet-william ;  but  EDWIN  must 
put  the  kisses  on  it;"  and  she  archly  raised  the 
flower  to  his  lips,  which,  of  course,  did  not  fail  to 
receive  the  required  number  of  precious  salutations. 


60  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

MARY  smiled  at  the  loving  conceit  of  her  young 
sister,  and  said : 

"  But  you  know,  AGGIE,  these  flowers  will  not  keep 
many  days ;  what  shah1  I  do  then  ?  " 

"  Oil."  responded  the  child,  "  you  have  an  her 
barium  ;  you  must  press  them  in  a  book,  and  then 
paste  them  in  that,  and  they  will  last  a  long,  long 
while — perhaps  till  you  return  to  us  again.  But, 
mind,  you  must  put  them  all  on  the  same  page ;  so 
we  shall  all  be  together." 

Having  thus  disposed  of  her  love-offering,  the 
little  girl  ran  out  again  to  play  with  the  flowers  and 
butterflies. 

The  lovers,  although  filled  with  grief  that  they 
must  be  separated  so  long,  yet  conversed  hopefully 
of  the  future. 

"  How  desolate  we  shall  be  when  you  are  gone, 
dearest  MARY!"  said  EDWIN,  taking  her  hands  in 
his  and  pressing  them  affectionately.  "What  a 
gloom  will  rest  upon  this  place.  These  beautiful 
hills,  and  glorious  wood-paths,  and  romantic  shores 
will  have  no  more  charms  for  me,  only  so  far  as 
they  remind  me  of  you,  and  serve  as  constant 
mementos  of  your  love.  And  it  saddens  me,  also, 
to  think  how  lonely  you  must  be,  far,  far,  away, 
among  strangers." 

"  True,  true,  dear  EDWIN,"  returned  MARY,  "  and  I 
dare  not  let  niy  thoughts  dwell  upon  the  subject 
But  then,  you  know,  a  year  will  quickly  glide  by, 
and  then,  dearest,  we  shall  all  be  united  again." 


SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON.  61 

"  But,  perhaps,  when  surrounded  by  the  splendor 
and  fashion  of  the  metropolis,  and  especially  by 
admirers  of  wealth  and  rank,  which  your  beauty  and 
accomplishments  will  not  fail  to  attract,  you  will  be 
ashamed  of  your  rustic  lover,  and  forget  him  for  a 
more  brilliant  destiny  than  he  can  offer  you,"  said 
the  young  man,  sadly. 

"  Why,  EDWIN,  how  can  you  speak  thus  ! "  replied 
MARY,  her  large  dark  eyes  swimming  in  tears ;  and 
she  arose,  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and 
pressed  a  kiss,  in  which  all  her  soul  seemed  con 
centrated,  upon  his  lips. 

The  young  man  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  dre"w 
her  to  his  heart  with  the  tenderest  emotion. 

"And  you,  EDWIN,"  she  resumed,  as  she  turned 
her  beautiful  eyes  to  his,  "shall  I  find  you  un 
changed,  on  my  return  ?  " 

The  young  man  gave  her  a  look  which  seemed  to 
say  that  the  sun  and  stars,  and  even  the  pillars  of 
the  universe  would  fall,  before  he  could  forget  or 
cease  to  love  a  being  so  incomparably  fair. 

Full  of  confidence,  hope,  and  love,  the  young 
people  were  forming  plans  for  the  future,  which 
rose  before  their  young  imaginations,  bright  and 
glorious,  radiant  with  rainbows,  and  redolent  of 
flowers,  when  Mrs.  MOKE  retained  to  the  room  and 
said : 

"  MARY,  dear,  the  coach  will  be  here  in  an  hour,  to 
take  you  to  the  cars ;  had  you  not  better  get  your 
bonnet  and  all  your  things  ready  ?  I  will  find  that 


62  SIGNET  OF  KING  SOLOMON. 

paper  which  contains  the  directions  you  are  to  fol 
low,  when  you  arrive  in  New  York." 

She  sat  down  by  the  table  and  unlocked  an  escri- 
toir,  which  she  placed  before  her,  and  began  to  turn 
over  its  contents.  The  paper  to  which  she  had  just 
alluded  was  soon  found ;  but  on  turning  over  some 
old  letters,  her  attention  was  arrested  by  one 
addressed  to  herself,  in  the  unmistakable  hand 
writing  of  her  dead  husband,  with  the  seal  unbroken. 
The  mere  finding  one  of  her  husband's  letters  would 
of  itself  cause  no  surprise — for  she  had  preserved 
many  of  these  treasures — but  the  mystery,  in  this 
case,  was,  that  an  unsealed  letter,  which  she  had 
never  seen  nor  read,  should  have  remained  there, 
through  so  many  years,  undiscovered.  The  sight  of 
that  new-found  missive  brought  back  again  the  old 
times  in  all  their  freshness.  How  her  heart  was 
•stirred  by  the  memories  it  awakened  of  those  days, 
so  bright  and  happy,  when  her  life  was  crowned  with 
the  strong  and  devoted  love  of  a  husband.  Her 
eyes  filled  with  tears  as  she  broke  the  seal.  It 
seemed  as  if  her  beloved  husband  was  about  to 
speak  to  her  from  his  home  in  paradise.  She 
opened  the  letter  and  read  aloud,  as  follows : 

"  MY  EVER-BELOVED  WlFEt 

"Being  about  to  set  out  on  another  voyage,  und  not  knowing 
what  accidents  may  befall  you  or  me,  I  commend  you  to  the  care  of 
that  Brotherhood  of  which  I  have  so  long  been  a  member.  Should 
a  time  come  when  you  will  need  sympathy,  protection,  or  aid,  do 
not  hesitate  to  follow  the  directions  herein  given. 


SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 


63 


"  The  secretary  in  the  east  room  contains  a  drawer  marked  with 
the  letter  G.  You  will  find  in  it  a  small  sealed  packet,  on  one 
side  of  which  are  certain  figiires  and  emblems,  with  directions  in 
regard  to  its  use.  Should  the  contingency  above  referred  to  occur, 
use  it  as  advised.  It  contains  the  'SIGNET  or  KING  SOLOMON.' 
Every  Freemason  who  has  stood  under  the  '  Royal  Arch '  will  com 
prehend  its  silent  appeal,  and  no  one  who  sees  it  will  dare  to  turn 
a  deaf  ear  to  the  cry  of  distress  sent  forth  by  the  wife  and  children 
of  a  companion,  be  he  living  or  dead. 

"'Heaven  bless  my  dear  wife  and  babes!  "  JAMES  MOKE." 


Mrs.  MORE  read  this  epistle  with  the  deepest 
emotion.  She  remained  in  silent  musing  for  a  few 
minutes,  and  then  started  up,  saying  as  some  new 


f>4  SIGNET   OF   KING    SOLOMON. 

thought  seemed  to  strike  her :  "  Who  knows  but 
Providence  has  designed  that  this  discovery  should 
be  made  at  this  time  for  some  wise  and  good 
purpose  ?  " 

Taking  from  her  pocket  a  bunch  of  keys,  she 
passed  into  the  east  room.  Opening  the  drawer 
Indicated,  she  soon  found  the  mysterious  packet,  and 


examined  it  attentively.  On  one  side  was  a  drawing, 
representing  the  key-stone  of  an  arch,  with  a  circle 
in  the  center,  around  which  appeared  the  following 
mystic  letters : 

"  H.  T.  W.  S.  S.  T.  K.  S." 

On  the  reverse  were  these  words : 

"  ®o  lum  who  can  read  the  (E-alrattetic  2f  etferg :  |lemcmkv 
tjouv  obligation." 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Mrs.  MORE,  as  she  returned 
to  the  sitting-room,  "  a  heavy  load  of  anxiety  is 
lifted  from  my  heart.  I  feel,  indeed,  that  we  are 


SIGNET    OF   KING    SOLOMON.  65 

surrounded  with  an  invisible  protection,  and  com 
prehend  now  the  source  of  those  mysterious  supplies 
which  in  times  of  trial  and  need  have  never  failed 
to  appear.  MARY,"  she  added,  solemnly,  "your 
father,  from  his  grave,  to-day  reaches  forth  his  arm 
to  guide  and  protect  you.  Take  this  packet,  'the 
Signet  of  King  Solomon'  I  feel  that  it  will  prove 
for  you  a  protecting  talisman.  If  sorrows  encom 
pass  you,  it  will  bring  you  consolation.  If  dan 
gers  threaten  you,  it  will  secure  you  protection 
and  aid." 

While  Mrs.  MOEE  was  speaking,  the  carriage, 
which  was  to  bear  the  maiden  away,  drove  up  to 
the  gate;  and,  after  many  embraces  and  tearful 
adieus,  MARY  took  her  place  in  the  coach,  which 
rolled  rapidly  away. 

The  grief-stricken  circle  gazed  after  her,  through 
their  streaming  tears,  till  the  carriage  disappeared 
behind  the  high  hills,  and  then  returned  to  the 
house. 

Heaven  bless  and  protect  you,  MARY  MORE  ! 


Captain  JAMES  MORE,  for  some  years  before  his 
death,  had  been  an  active  and  enthusiastic  member 
of  the  Ancient  and  Honorable  Order  of  Freemasons, 
and  was  known  as  one  of  its  brightest  ornaments. 
Fully  comprehending  and  completely  imbued  with 
the  lofty  and  benevolent  spirit  of  the  institution,  his 
heart  and  hands  were  ever  ready  to  respond  to  the 


66  SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

calls  of  the  suffering  and  poor,  with  a  munificence 
limited  only  by  his  means.  No  brother  ever  appealed 
to  him,  either  "  on  the  Square"  or  "  under  the  Arch," 
without  receiving  substantial  aid,  and,  what  was 
oftentimes  of  far  greater  value,  kind  and  encouraging 
words  and  useful  advice.  Thus  he  became  dear  to 
the  Brotherhood ;  and  when  he  was  called  from  his 
labors,  to  rest  in  the  more  perfect  Lodge  above,  his 
brethren  mourned  for  him  with  a  sincere  and  heart 
felt  sorrow. 

Silently  and  invisibly,  yet  with  unbending  assi 
duity,  they  watched  over  his  bereaved  family,  and, 
by  judicious  arrangements,  provided  so  liberally  for 
the  wants  of  the  widow  that  she  was  not  only  pos 
sessed  of  every  comfort,  but  also  able  to  give  her 
daughters  a  thorough  and  practical  education. 

She  often  wondered  how  her  limited  income  could 
go  so  far  and  procure  so  much,  and  was  frequently 
not  a  little  suprised,  when  she  settled  her  quarterly 
bills  with  various  tradesmen,  to  find  the  amount  but 
little  more  than  a  quarter  or  third  as  large  as  she 
had  supposed  it  to  be. 

But  now  she  comprehended  all.  On  reading  her 
husband's  letter — so  long  lost — the  truth  directly 
flashed  upon  her  mind.  Having  thus  had  personal 
experience  of  the  power  and  benevolence  of  that 
mysterious  and  universal  Fraternity,  she  now  felt 
that  her  daughter,  wherever  she  might  wander, 
would  always  be  within  its  reach,  and  the  object  of 
its  constant  care ;  and  she  did  not  doubt  that  the 


SIGNET   OF   KING    SOLOMON.  67 

"  Signet  of  King  Solomon,"  which  that  beloved  child 
bore  with  her,  would  answer  some  good  purpose,  in 
case  of  need. 

These  considerations  served,  in  a  good  degree, 
to  remove  those  painful  misgivings  and  dark  fore 
bodings  she  had  previously  felt,  and  she  resumed 
her  household  duties  with  a  lighter  spirit  and  more 
cheerful  heart. 


THE  ICN'IGKHT. 


KXOW'ST  tliou  what's  said  when  from  thy  door 

The  sons  of  sorrow  see  thee  pass? 

"Behold  his  brow,  how  full  of  grace! 
He  smiles  upon  the  suppliant  poor, 

And  fears  nor  fever  nor  infection, 
But  seeks  the  anguished  sufferer's  bed, 
And  charms  to  peace  the  throbbing  head, 

With  deeds  of  true  affection." 


CHAPTEE  IY. 

BOUT  live  o'clock  on  the  same  day — 
near  the  time  of  the  departure  of  the 
train  which  connects  with  the  New 
York  steamers  at  Fall  River — a  gen 
tleman,  dressed  entirely  in  black,  was  seen  to 
enter  the  station  of  the  Old  Colony  and  Fall 
River  railroad,  in  Boston.  He  entered  by 
the  west  door,  and  advancing  to  the  large 
apartment  appropriated  to  the  use  of  the  male  pas 
sengers,  his  searching  gaze  swept  over  the  crowd, 
and  finally  rested  on  a  tall  and  benevolent-looking 
gentleman  who  stood  some  distance  from  him,  on  the 
opposite  side.  This  person  was  General  OLDHAM, 
the  station-master.  If  one  could  judge  from  ap 
pearances,  he  was  not  far  from  sixty  years  of  age. 
He  had  been  for  many  years  a  zealous  Mason,  and 
during  the  dark  days  of  anti-Masonic  persecution  he 
remained  firm  as  a  rock,  in  his  attachment  to  the 
Order,  and  its  high  and  holy  principles.  His  en 
thusiasm  did  not  decline,  but  rather  increased  as  he 
advanced  in  years,  and  no  Brother,  or  member  of  a 
Brother's  family,  in  distress,  ever  appealed  to  him 
in  vain.  His  Masonic  obligations  were  not  lightly 


72  SIGNET    OF    KING    SOLOMON. 

assumed,  and  therefore  lie  esteemed  a  strict  com 
pliance  with  them  to  be  a  religious  duty. 

After  a  few  moments,  the  stranger,  who  had  been 
silently  regarding  him,  caught  his  eye,  and  immedi 
ately  raised  his  right  hand,  with  a  peculiar  motion. 
The  General  seemed  to  understand  the  signal ;  for, 
pressing  through  the  throng  of  waiting  passengers, 
he  hastened  toward  the  stranger,  and  the  two  shook 
hands  with  the  cordiality  of  old  friends,  although 
they  were  personally  unknown  to  each  other.  They 
conversed  apart  for  a  few  minutes,  when  the  tall 
gentleman  made  a  motion  to  a  person  who  at  that 
moment  was  passing  by  with  a  small  trunk  in  his 
hand,  and  who  directly  joined  them. 

"  This  is  the  conductor  of  the  train,  sir — Mr. 
CLAFLIN" — said  the  station-master  to  the  stranger. 
"  He  will  see  that  your  request  is  complied  with." 

The  three  then  advanced  to  a  point  in  the  room 
where  they  could  look  into  the  ladies'  apartment. 
The  stranger  evidently  soon  found  the  object  of 
his  search ;  for,  pointing  toward  a  young  lady  of 
exquisite  beauty,  he  said  to  Mr.  CLAFLIN  :  "  That  is 
the  lady,  sir;"  and  at  the  same  time  handed  him  a 
letter,  saying :  "  I  will  be  much  obliged  to  you,  if 
you  will  give  that,  on  your  arrival  in  Fall  River,  to 
Captain  BROWN,  of  the  steamer  Metropolis." 

"  It  shall  be  done,  sir,"  rejoined  the  conductor, 
who  is  noted  as  one  of  the  most  kind-hearted  and 
obliging  men  living. 

"I  am   very,  very   grateful   to   you,  gentlemen," 


THE   KNIGHT   OF   THE   TEMPLE.  73 

rejoined  the  stranger ;  and  immediately  passed  out 
into  the  street. 

That  young  lady  was  Miss  MOKE. 

On  leaving  the  railroad  station,  the  stranger 
walked  rapidJy  toward  the  Common,  and,  on  reach 
ing  it,  seated  himself  on  one  of  the  most  retired 
benches  he  could  find,  where  he  remained  for  some 
time  absorbed  in  thought. 

By  the  description  wre  have  already  given  of  this 
individual,  the  reader,  no  doubt,  has  already  sur 
mised  that  he  is  the  same  mysterious  person  who 
rescued  Miss  MORE  from  the  villainous  hand  of  MAT 
THEW  ORALL. 

At  length,  returning  to  himself,  he  took  a  memo 
randa  book  from  his  pocket,  and,  turning  over  its 
leaves,  busied  himself  with  its  contents.  It  ap 
peared  to  contain  a  record  of  each  day's  events  and 
labors. 

"And  what  works  of  charity  have  I  performed 
to-day  ? "  he  exclaimed,  at  last ;  "  what  services  of 
humanity  have  I  rendered  my  suffering  fellow-beings 
which  the  Recording  Angel  will  deem  worthy  to  be 
placed  to  my  credit  in  his  awful  book  ? 

" '  Two  orphan  girls,'  he  continued — appearing  to 
read  from  his  register — '  provided  with  comfortable 
homes.' 

"  '  A  widow  and  her  young  children,  in  great  dis 
tress,  relieved.' 

"  *  Prisoners  visited,  and  furnished  with  such  aid 
and  counsel  as  their  circumstances  demanded.' 
4 


74  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

" '  A  poor  child  buried  with  Christian  rites,  whose 
parents  were  too  destitute  to  provide  for  these  last 
offices  of  affection.' 

"  Alas !  alas !  that  in  this  land  of  plenty — a  land 
really  overflowing  with  every  comfort  and  luxury — 
there  should  still  be  so  many  who — and  through  no 
fault  of  their  own  either — are,  literally,  too  poor  to 
die! 

"But  the  good  accomplished,  and  the  sufferings 
relieved  to-day,  how  insignificant  they  seem  when 
compared  with  the  terrible  magnitude  of  the  evils 
which  yet  press,  with  crushing  weight,  on  a  stricken 
world !  The  few  sorrows  I  have  been  able  to  lighten, 
and  all  my  poor  works  of  charity,  were  they  repeated 
every  day,  and  multiplied  a  thousand  times,  would 
still  be  but  as  a  few  grains  of  sand  lifted  from  the 
shore  of  the  boundless  sea — a  few  drops  of  water 
taken  from  the  great  ocean  of  human  misery,  which 
still  rolls  darkly  on,  apparently  as  full  as  ever ! 

"  Oh !  will  the  day  ever  come  when  justice  and 
love,  subduing  the  world  to  a  brighter  and  more 
equitable  rule,  shall  carry  gladness  and  rest  to  every 
human  dwelling  ?" 

While  uttering  these  words,  the  countenance  of 
the  stranger  was  expressive  of  the  deepest  pity  and 
sadness. 

"  Yet  we  must  not  despair,  but  work  with  courage 
and  hope,"  he  continued,  as  his  eyes  fell  upon  the 
cross  which  was  attached  to  his  watch-chain. 

" '  In  hoc  signo  vinces?    'Magna  est  veritas  et  preva- 


THE  KNIGHT   OF   THE   TEMPLE.  75 

lebit?  Yes,  '  by  this  sign  we  will  conquer.'  '  Great 
is  the  Truth,  and  it  will  prevail.'  Love  shall  yet 
possess  the  earth.  The  horizon  of  the  Future 
already  gleams  with  the  light  of  the  coming  day. 
The  mighty  dirge  of  grief  which,  from  the  beginning, 
has  ever  pealed  forth  from  the  bleeding  heart  of 
humanity,  shall  cease  at  length,  and  the  worlds, 
redeemed  from  the  curse  of  selfishness,  shall  roll  on 
in  their  majestic  circles,  enveloped  in  a  sublime 
chorus  of  gratitude  and  love." 

The  last  beams  of  the  setting  sun  were  now  en 
twining  themselves,  like  threads  of  gold,  among  the 
green  leaves  of  the  grand  old  trees,  which  form  the 
glory  and  beauty  of  the  Common. 

The  stranger,  turning  to  get  a  better  view  of  the 
sunset  glory,  was  surprised  to  see  a  little  boy  not 
more  than  four  years  old,  standing  directly  before 
him,  and  gazing  into  his  face  with  an  earnest,  wish 
ful  look.  He  was  a  child  of  almost  superhuman 
beauty.  His  finely  formed  head  was  covered  with 
clustering  curls  of  soft  flaxen  hair;  his  eyes  of 
heavenly  blue,  although  now  partially  dimmed  by 
tears,  shone  with  intelligence.  Altogether,  he  Avould 
remind  one  of  those  pictures  where  the  artist  has 
endeavored  to  embody  his  ideal  of  the  form  and 
features  of  the  child-Christ.  He  was  dressed  with 
scrupulous  neatness,  although  his  well-worn  gar 
ments  plainly  indicated  that  he  was  a  child  of  mis 
fortune. 

Seeing  that  the  boy  desired  to  speak  to  him,  but 


76  SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

was  restrained  by  timidity,  the  stranger  laid  his 
hand  upon  the  child's  head,  saying,  kindly : 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you,  my  little  fellow  ?  " 

"Oh,  sir ! "  he  replied,  eagerly,  "  my  poor  mamma" 
— the  child  could  proceed  no  further ;  tears  and 
emotion  choked  his  utterance. 

His  interest  and  sympathy  now  thoroughly  aroused, 
the  stranger  lifted  him  up  and  placed  him  by  his  side 
on  the  bench,  and  sought,  by  encouraging  and  gentle 
words,  to  reassure  him.  His  efforts  were  soon  suc 
cessful.  The  storm  of  grief  having  subsided,  the 
poor  boy  raised  his  sweet  face  trustfully  toward  that 
of  the  stranger. 

"  Now,  my  pretty  one,"  said  the  latter,  "  what  do 
you  wish  to  say  ?  What  of  your  mamma  ?  " 

"  Oh  ! "  replied  the  child,  "  poor  mamma  is  sick  : 
doctor  won't  come  and  give  her  medicine,  because 
we  haven't  money,  and  mamma  cried  so  because 
nobody  would  come  to  help  her,  and ." 

"  Enough  my  poor,  poor  child,"  exclaimed  the 
stranger,  hastily;  "let  us  go;  your  mamma  shall 
have  medicine ;  but  where  do  you  live  ?  " 

The  boy  hesitated,  as  if  he  did  not  fully  under 
stand  the  question. 

"  In  what  street  do  you  live  ?  "  repeated  the  former. 

"  Don't  know,"  replied  the  boy. 

"Do  not  know?"  rejoined  the  stranger;  "how  do 
you  expect  to  find  your  way  home  again  ?  " 

"  Oh !  I  know  where  it  is,  but  not  the  name  of  the 
street,"  the  child  quickly  responded. 


THE   KNIGHT   OF   THE   TEMPLE.  77 

"  Let  us  hasten,  then,"  returned  the  stranger ;  and 
taking  the  beautiful  boy  by  the  hand,  the  two  walked 
rapidly  across  the  Common.  They  proceeded  some 
distance  up  Pleasant  street,  and  entered  an  obscure 
alley  which  turned  down  on  the  right. 

"  Mamma  lives  there,"  said  the  child,  pointing  to 
a  dilapidated  house,  which  stood  a  few  paces  from 
them  on  the  left.  "  Oh !  my  dear  mamma/'  con 
tinued  the  boy,  "  how  glad  she  will  be !  she  won't  cry 
any  more;"  and  then,  looking  earnestly  into  the 
stranger's  face,  he  added  :  "  are  you  GOD  ?  " 

"  GOD  ?  my  poor  child,  what  a  question !  why  do 
you  speak  thus?"  replied  the  stranger,  who  could 
not  help  smiling  at  the  strange  thought  of  the  little 
boy. 

"Why,"  rejoined  the  child,  "mamma  said  none 
but  GOD  would  help  her  now,  and  didn't  know  but — 
but ." 

"Well,  well,  no  matter,  my  brave  fellow,*'  said  the 
stranger ;  "  let  us  see  what  we  can  do  for  your  sick 
mamma." 

They  entered  the  house,  and,  ascending  to  the 
third  story,  the  boy  led  the  way  to  a  large  but  poorly 
furnished  room,  out  of  which  opened  another,  which 
was  evidently  the  chamber  of  the  sick  lady. 

Into  this  room  the  child  hastily  ran,  exclaiming : 

"  Don't  cry  any  more,  mamma  ;  your  little  WILLIE 
can  now  get  you  medicine,  and  ever  so  many  nice 
things.  I  have  found  a  gentleman  who  will  help 
you." 


78  SIGNET   OF   KING    SOLOMON. 

"  What  do  you  say,  m y  sweet  child  ?  "  said  a  soft 
but  feeble  voice. 

"Madam,"  said  the  stranger,  advancing  to  the 
door,  "  I  met  your  child  a  few  minutes  since,  and 
learned  that  you  were  sick  and  without  friends.  It 
is  my  duty  to  relieve  the  distressed  and  protect  the 
weak.  I  shall  be  happy  to  render  you  any  assistance 
you  may  need." 

"GoD  has  indeed  heard  my  prayer,"  replied  the 
same  sweet  voice.  "I  am  indeed  weak  and  help 
less." 

As  she  lay  there  on  the  bed,  like  a  broken  flower, 
her  face  flushed  with  fever,  the  stranger  thought  he 
never  saw  before  a  more  lovely  face.  She  was  yet 
young ;  not  more  than  twenty-three,  at  most ;  and  in 
spite  of  her  illness  and  pain,  exhibited  a  head,  face, 
and  features  of  extraordinary  beauty. 

The  stranger  contemplated  her  for  a  moment  in 
silence.  Being  familiar  with  disease  in  every  form, 
he  quickly  saw  that  her  illness  was  the  result  of  care 
and  anxiety ;  and,  although  severe,  was  not  danger 
ous.  The  fever  had,  indeed,  already  reached  its 
crisis,  and,  with  good  nursing,  she  would  be  quite 
restored  in  two  or  three  days. 

Comprehending  that  in  this  case  acts  would  be 
more  efficacious  than  words,  he  merely  told  her 
henceforth  to  have  no  more  anxiety,  that  he  would 
see  her  properly  cared  for,  and  then  withdrew, 
promising  to  return  in  a  short  time. 
'Leaving  the  house,  he  proceeded  rapidly  to 


THE   KNIGHT   OF  THE   TEMPLE.  79 

Washington  street,  and  entering  a  drug  store,  or 
dered  several  articles,  which  he  placed  in  his  pockets, 
and  then,  exchanging  a  few  words  with  the  propri 
etor,  left.  He  called  at  other  places,  leaving  special 
orders  at  each,  and  immediately  returned  to  the 
comfortless  home  of  his  new  proteges. 

Taking  a  small  bottle  from  his  pocket,  he  poiired 
a  portion  of  its  contents  into  a  glass,  and,  raising  the 
head  of  the  sick  lady  gently,  placed  the  liquid 
to  her  lips,  remarking,  with  a  smile  so  frank  and 
benevolent  as  to  inspire,  on  the  instant,  the  fullest 
confidence  : 

"  I  am  not  altogether  a  suitable  nurse  for  a  lady ; 
but  am  perhaps  better  than  none.  A  woman,  how 
ever,  experienced  in  such  labors,  will  soon  be  here, 
who,  I  trust,  will  be  able  to  make  you  quite  com 
fortable." 

The  lady  took  the  draught,  and  in  a  few  moments 
fell  into  an  easy  slumber. 

The  stranger  retired  to  the  next  room,  seated  him 
self  at  a  window,  and  busied  himself  with  conjectures 
concerning  the  history  of  the  two  interesting  beings 
who  had  been  so  unexpectedly  cast  upon  his  protec 
tion.  The  lady  had  evidently  been  delicately  reared, 
and  her  present  condition  must  have  been  the  result 
of  misfortunes  of  no  ordinary  character.  The  little 
boy,  whom  he  had  taken  upon  his  knee,  could  give 
him  no  satisfactory  information.  Jt  was  not  from 
any  motive  of  idle  curiosity  that  the  stranger  desired 
to  penetrate  the  history  of  his  unknown  charge  ; 


80  SIGNET   OF   KING    SOLOMON.* 

but  as  business  of  importance  made  it  necessary  for 
him  to  leave  Boston  in  a  few  days  for  a  distant  city, 
he  wished  to  know  enough  of  the  circumstances  of 
the  unfortunate  lady  to  enable  him  to  serve  her 
according  to  her  needs,  by  restoring  her  to  her 
friends,  or  otherwise  providing  for  her. 

Steps  were  now  heard  in  the  hall  on  the  third  floor, 
and,  the  door  opening,  a  lady  entered,  followed  by  a 
porter,  carrying  a  large  basket  filled  with  a  great 
variety  of  articles — provisions,  medicines,  clothing  — 
in  a  word,  everything  that  might  be  deemed  neces 
sary  in  the  present  circumstances. 

"Mrs.  NEWTON,"  said  the  stranger,  rising,  and 
taking  the  lady  cordially  by  the  hand,  "  I  am  glad 
that  you  decided  to  come  yourself ;  for  I  can  place 
these  unfortunate  persons  in  your  charge  in  the 
fullest  confidence  that  they  will  be  well  cared  for." 

The  lady  addressed  was  a  handsome  wroman, 
apparently  about  forty  years  of  age.  Her  soft  eyes 
and  pleasant  countenance  were  a  true  index  of  her 
heart,  which  could  deeply  feel  for,  and  sympathize 
with,  suffering  in  all  its  forms.  She  was  a  graduate 
of  one  of  our  female  medical  colleges,  and  thus 
combined  the  skillful  physician  with  the  experienced 
nurse. 

The  stranger,  after  making  her  acquainted  with 
the  condition  of  the  invalid,  and  giving  her  direc 
tions  to  be  foljowed  during  the  night,  departed 
with  a  promise  that  he  would  return  early  the  next 
morning. 


3* 

THE  KNIGHT  OF  THE  TEMPLE.          81 

"  Well,  my  little  man,"  said  Mrs.  NEWTON  to  the 
boy,  whose  sweet  face  was  upturned  wonderingly 
toward  hers,  "  what  is  your  name  ?  " 

" WILLIE,"  replied  the  child;  and  he  came  and 
placed  his  tiny  white  hands  trustfully  on  her  lap. 
She  took  him  in  her  arms  and  kissed  him  affec 
tionately. 

"  Mamma,  my  poor  mamma,  will  she  be  well  soon?" 
he  added. 

"  With  GOD'S  help  I  trust  she  will,"  returned  the 
lady.  <;  But  don't  talk  now,  you  may  wake  her.  I'll 
give  you  some  supper,  and  then  WILLIE  will  go  to 
bed,  and  in  the  morning  he  shall  see  his  mamma 
quite  well." 

The  supper  disposed  of,  and  the  little  boy  put 
into  his  crib,  Mrs.  NEWTON  took  a  shaded  light  and 
seated  herself  with  her  work  by  the  side  of  the  sick 
lady. 

About  ten  o'clock  the  invalid  awoke  and  looked 
inquiringly  around  the  room,  and  then  fixed  her  eyes 
on  the  nurse.  The  sight  of  that  lovely  face  and 
those  gently  beaming  eyes  won  the  heart  of  the 
latter  at  once. 

"  Have  no  fear,  madam,"  said  Mrs.  NEWTON  ;  "  you 
are  now  surrounded  with  friends  who  will  protect 
you.  Do  you  feel  better  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  much,  very  much  better ;  but  tell  me," 
she  added,  "  who  is  that  kind  gentleman  who  came 
to  me  so  opportunely  in  my  despair,  to  save  me  and 
my  poor  child  ?  " 


82  SIGNET   OP  KING  SOLOMON. 

"  Indeed,  my  dear  lady,  I  cannot  tell,"  responded 
the  imrse ;  "  I  know  him,  and  yet  I  do  not  know 
him.  I  have  often  met  him  on  occasions  like  this, 
but  do  not  know  his  name.  He  seems  to  be  very 
sad,  as  if  some  great  grief  were  crushing  his  heart — 
he,  so  good  and  land !  He  is  constantly  seeking  out 
the  unfortunate  and  wretched  and  sick,  affording 
them  timely  and  substantial  relief." 

"It  is  strange,"  said  the  sick  lady,  in  a  sweet, 
silvery  voice;  "I  was  in  utter  despair,  when  he 
came,  like  a  kind  Providence,  to  relieve  me — a  poor, 
friendless  outcast,  who  can  make  him  no  return." 

Mrs.  NEWTON  now  arose,  and,  mixing  a  powder, 
gave  it  to  the  invalid,  who  soon  after  fell  again  into 
a  refreshing  slumber,  from  which  she  did  not  awake 
till  the  following  morning. 

Early  in  the  forenoon  the  strarger  again  made  his 
appearance. 

"  How  is  your  patient  this  morning,  Mrs.  NEWTON  ?  " 
he  inquired,  as  he  entered  the  room  ;  "  I  hope  she  is 
quite  comfortable  ?  " 

"  Oh  ! "  replied  the  nurse,  "  she  has  so  far  improved 
that  I  have  already  got  her  up.  She  will  soon  be 
well ;  but  I  think  your  kind  words  and  assurances 
of  future  protection  have  done  more  for  her  than 
my  medicines.  And  now  if  you  can  take  my  place 
for  an  hour,"  she  added,  "  I  will  go  out  and  attend 
to  some  affairs  of  my  own,  and  take  little  WILLIE 
with  me  for  a  walk;  the  morning  air  will  do  him 
good." 


THE   KNIGHT   OF   THE   TEMPI^].  83 

After  Mrs.  NEWTON  and  the  child  had  departed, 
the  stranger  rose  and  went  into  the  chamber  of  the 
invalid. 

She  was  dressed,  and  seated  in  an  easy  chair. 
All  traces  of  fever  had  disappeared,  and  her  superb 
countenance  gave  every  indication  of  returning 
health. 

"  How  do  you  find  yourself  now  ?  "  he  inquired,  in 
a  tone  of  tender  interest,  as  he  drew  a  chair  to  her 
side,  and  sat  down  in  it. 

"  I  feel  myself  nearly  recovered,"  she  replied,  her 
face  beaming  with  emotions  of  gratitude,  "  through 
your  kindness,  and  the  mercy  of  Heaven  ;  but  how 
can  I  ever  repay  you,  sir,  for  your  disinterested  care 
and  kindness?" 

"  You  owe  me  no  thanks,"  he  returned  ;  "  I  have 
but  discharged  my  duty ; "  and  then  he  immediately 
added :  "  HOWT  can  I  still  further  aid  you  ?  Have 
you  friends,  to  whom  you  wish  to  return?  or 
what  are  your  purposes?  You  may  command  my 
services." 

"  Alas ! "  she  replied,  "  I  have  no  friends ;  my 
parents  are  dead,  and  I  am  a  lonely  outcast — a' weak 
and  helpless  wanderer  on  the  highway  of  life.  My 
only  ambition  is  to  procure  some  respectable  em 
ployment  by  which  I  can  support  myself  and  poor 
child." 

"  But  if  you  will  tell  me  your  history,"  replied  the 
stranger,  hesitatingly — for  he  did  not  wish  to  show 
an  indelicate  curiosity  in  regard  to  the  mystery 


84:  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

wliicli  surrounded  her — "I  shall  be  better  able 
to  decide  what  will  be  best  to  do  for  your  future 
interests." 

"  Your  services,  sir,"  responded  the  beautiful  un 
known,  "  rendered  to  one  who  had  no  claims  what 
ever  upon  you,  certainly  give  you  a  right  to  know 
the  history  of  her  whom  you  have  laid  under  such 
strong  obligations.  But  my  history  is  no  uncom 
mon  one  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  the  usual  every-day 
story  of  life — hopes  blighted — love  deceived,  and  a 
heart  crushed.  It  may  be  told  in  few  words.  I  was 
born,"  she  continued,  "in  the  city  of  New  York. 
IVfy  mother  dying  when  I  was  quite  young,  my 
father,  whose  affection  was  unbounded,  procured 
me  the  best  governesses  and  teachers  which  wealth 
and  influence  could  command,  and  provided  for  my 
education  at  home.  I  had  scarcely  reached  the  age 
of  eighteen  when  this  beloved  parent  was  suddenly 
taken  away,  and  I  was  left  alone  in  the  world. 
Mistress  of  an  ample  fortune,  I  had  no  anxiety 
regarding  the  future ;  but  I  missed  sadly  the  wise 
counsels  and  affectionate  guidance  of  my  dear  father. 
It  was  a  little  after  this  period  that  I  made  the 
acquaintance  of  the  person  who  afterward  became 
my  husband.  He  professed  the  strongest  attach 
ment  to  me — and  I  believe  he  was  sincere  at  the 
time— and  it  was  not  long  before  he  gained  my 
deepest  affection.  He  was  wealthy,  handsome,  and 
belonged  to  one  of  the  most  respectable  families  of 
New  York ;  and  it  was  with  the  most  implicit  confi- 


THE   KNIGHT   OF   THE   TEMPLE.  85 

dence  that  I  gave  him  my  hand,  my  heart,  and  my 
fortune.  The  first  part  of  our  married  life  was 
without  a  cloud.  My  husband's  love  seemed  to 
increase  every  day,  and  when  little  WILLIE  was  born 
it  appeared  to  absorb  his  entire  being.  As  for 
myself,  I  more  than  loved  him — I  worshiped  him  as 
a  god.  Thus  the  few  years  which  rolled — oh,  how 
quickly! — away  only  served  to  make  more  bright 
the  golden  chain  of  love  which  bound  us  together. 
Yet,  at  this  time,  there  was  a  shadow  on  my  heart 
— a  kind  of  instinctive  foreboding  of  coming  evil. 
WILLIE  was  now  three  years  old,  and  we  desired  to 
procure  for  him  a  suitable  governess.  Among  the 
various  applicants  for  the  place  there  was  a  young 
lady  from  Boston,  who  brought  the  highest  testimo 
nials  in  regard  to  character  and  qualifications.  We 
decided  to  accept  her,  and  in  due  time  she  was 
installed  as  one  of  the  family.  From  the  first  I  felt 
%  secret  dislike  to  her ;  I  could  not  tell  why,  nor  in 
any  way  explain  it.  She  was  a  fine  looking  girl, 
intelligent,  and  full  of  spirit ;  but  was  infected  with 
many  of  those  wild  notions  which  the  so-called 
strong-minded  women  delight  to  advocate.  She  was 
an  individualist  of  the  transcendental  school,  and 
recognized  no  law  nor  authority  but  her  own 
judgment  and  capricious  impulses.  Altogether,  she 
was  the  most  unsuitable  person  we  could  have 
selected  to  take  charge  of  our  dear  child.  But  my 
husband  was  pleased  with  her,  and  often  took  her 
with  him  to  the  theaters  and  opera,  and  also  in  his 


86  SIGNET  OF  KING  SOLOMON. 

drives,  when  it  was  inconvenient  for  me  to  accom 
pany  him.  She,  too,  exhibited  a  growing  fondness 
for  him;  and,  although  my  heart  was  filled  with 
apprehensions,  my  reason  could  find  no  solid  ground 
for  open  complaint.  I  fancied,  also,  that  the  manner 
of  my  husband  grew  colder  toward  me  every  day, 
while  she  constantly  assumed  a  haughtier  air.  Thus, 
week  after  week  passed  away,  during  which  time  I 
suffered  all  that  indescribable  agony  of  doubt  which 
is  far  more  terrible  than  certainty.  But  the  dreadful 
certainty  was  soon  to  fall,  on  me.  One  day,  return 
ing  from  a  walk,  earlier  than  I  anticipated  or  was 
expected,  on  passing  through  the  hall  to  my  apart 
ments,  I  heard  low  voices  in  one  of  the  parlors. 
Entering  the  first  room,  the  door  of  which  was 
partially  open,  I  found  that  the  voices  issued  from 
the  back  parlor.  One  of  the  folding  doors  was 
closed  so  as  to  conceal  entirely  the  persons  who 
were  conversing  behind.  Supposing  them  to  be 
some  of  the  servants,  I  was  just  entering  the  apart 
ment,  when,  accidentally  raising  my  eyes  to  a  mirror 
which  was  placed  on  the  opposite  side,  I  saw  a  sight 
which  paralyzed,  for  the  time,  all  my  senses.  There, 
on  the  sofa,  locked  in  each  other's  arms,  and  ex 
changing  the  most  passionate  embraces,  accompanied 
with  the  most  endearing  words,  sat  my  husband 
and  the  governess !  The  terrible  agony  caused  by 
this  discovery  took  away  from  me  all  power  of 
motion.  I  stood  like  one  in  a  trance,  or  oppressed 
by  a  hideous  nightmare.  I  learned  enough  from 


THE   KNIGHT   OF   THE   TEMPLE.  87 

their  conversation  to  convince  me  that  a  criminal 
intimacy  had  existed  between  them  for  weeks.  At 
length  I  gathered  sufficient  strength  to  steal  frcm 
the  hated  place,  and  withdraw  to  my  own  chamber. 
For  a  time  I  remained  as  in  a  dream.  I  could  not 
comprehend  the  calamity  which  had  befallen  me. 
I  could  not  believe  that  my  married  life,  that  opened 
so  fair  and  beautiful — so  bright  with  love,  hope,  and 
confidence — would  come  to  so  dreadful  a  termination. 
Oh !  the  thought  was  too  horrible  ;  and  yet  it  was 
terribly  true.  A  serpent  had  been  gliding  among 
the  flowers  of  my  domestic  paradise,  and  poisoned 
them,  every  one.  My  brain  reeled ;  my  heart  seemed 
to  be  breaking ;  I  felt  that  I  could  no  longer  breathe 
under  that  hated  roof.  I  thought  not  of  taking  any 
advice ;  I  only  thought  of  getting  away  from  that 
pestilential  atmosphere  which  was  suffocating  me. 
I  hastily  packed  a  few  clothes  into  a  carpet-bag,  and 
placing  in  my  pocket  a  considerable  sum  of  money 
I  had  by  me,  I  called  my  little  boy,  and  silently  left 
the  house.  We  wandered  about  some  time,  without 
knowing  whither.  My  wish  was  to  get  as  far  from 
New  York  as  possible.  At  length  I  found  myself 
in  the  Fourth  avenue,  near  Twenty-eighth  street. 
There  was  a  train  of  cars  on  the  track,  bearing  the 
letters  '  New  York  and  Boston,'  apparently  ready  to 
start.  Taking  my  child  in  my  arms,  I  entered  one 
of  them,  and  soon  left  New  York  far  behind.  No 
one  who  has  not  experienced  the  same,  can  tell  how 
utterly  desolate  the  heart  is  when  it  is  robbed,  in 


88  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

tins  manner,  of  its  worshiped  idol.  Had  my  hus 
band  died,  good,  loving  and  true,  I  should  still  have 
had  the  memory  of  his  truth,  and  love,  and  virtue  to 
console  me — could  have  looked  forward  with  hope 
to  a  reunion  in  Heaven ;  but  crushed  and  broken, 
without  aim  or  ambition,  I  was  incapable  of  exertion. 
My  sweet,  loving  boy  was  all  that  attached  me  to 
life.  For  some  time  after  my  arrival  in  Boston,  I 
boarded  with  a  private  family ;  but  finding  my  means 
gradually  lessening,  I  felt  the  necessity  of  greater 
economy,  and  finally  took  these  rooms,  hoping  that 
I  might,  by  sewing,  succeed  in  providing  the  neces 
saries  of  life.  But  in  this  I  was  disappointed.  At 
length  my  last  cent  was  expended,  and  starvation 
stared  us  in  the  face.  Poor  little  WILLIE  cried  for 
bread,  which  I  could  not  give  him.  Seeing  me 
weep,  he  tried  to  comfort  me,  in  his  childish  manner. 
I  made  him  comprehend,  as  well  as  I  could,  our 
helpless  situation.  That  night  I  fell  into  a  heavy 
slumber,  and,  on  awakening  the  next  morning,  was 
in  a  high  fever.  My  thoughts  wandered,  and  I  was 
not  capable  of  collecting  my  ideas  until  some  time  in 
the  afternoon,  when,  parched  with  thirst,  I  called 
WILLIE  to  get  me  some  water.  He  brought  it  to  me, 
saying :  '  There,  dear  mamma,  don't  cry  any  more ; 
WILLIE  will  go  and  find  somebody  to  bring  you 
medicine  and  help  you.'  'No,  no,  my  child,'  I 
replied,  '  you  will  get  lost,  and  there  is  none  now  to 
help  us  but  GOD.'  It  appears  that  ah1  day,  although 
suffering  terribly  from  hunger  himself,  he  had  been 


THE   KNIGHT   OF   THE   TEMPLE.  89 

forming  some  childish  plans  by  which  he  could  make 
his  poor  mother  comfortable.  Perhaps  it  was  GOD 
who  inspired  him  with  the  idea ;  for  he  stole  out  of 
the  house  unobserved,  and  I  did  not  see  him  again 
until  he  returned  with  you." 

During  the  recital  of  this  painful  history,  the 
stranger's  countenance  exhibited  the  deepest  in 
terest  and  commiseration. 

"  My  dear  madam,"  said  he,  after  meditating  some 
time,  "  may  you  not  have  been  too  hasty  in  leaving 
your  home?  Your  husband,  it  is  true,  wronged, 
most  cruelly  wronged  you.  His  senses  might,  for 
the  time,  have  been  fascinated  by  that  depraved 
woman,  while  his  heart  may  have  remained  loyal, 
and  may  even  now  be  calling,  in  its  agony,  for  its 
first  love." 

"Oh!  I  wish  it  were  so,"  she  replied,  quickly; 
"  but  even  this  hope  is  denied  me.  I  have  received 
intelligence  in  regard  to  his  life  since,  and  he  has 
become  a  confirmed  libertine.  The  wretched  girl 
who  led  him  to  forget  his  honor  deceived  and 
deserted  him,  and  then  he  plunged  into  the  lowest 
and  most  criminal  debauchery." 

"And  yet  we  know  not,"  he  responded;  "the 
human  heart  is  an  inscrutable  mystery,  and  men  of 
strong  and  craving  natures  often  resort  to  the 
excitements  of  unlawful  love,  as  others  seek  to 
drown  unhappy  recollections  in  the  intoxicating 
bowl." 

She  looked  at  him  with  an  eager,  wistful  gaze. 


90  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

"  Yes,"  he  continued ;  "  your  husband  may  be 
saved,  and  his  affection  restored." 

"  Oh !  if  I  could  believe  it,"  she  exclaimed — "  but 
how?" 

"  By  your  presence,  gentleness,  and  beauty,"  he 
replied ;  "  which,  by  awaking  memories  of  the  olden 
time,  of  the  sweet  days  of  innocent  enjoyment  and 
chaste  love,  might  break  the  dark  spell  that,  perhaps, 
has  only  momentarily  chained  and  led  away  his 
senses.  My  dear  madam,"  he  added,  after  a  pause, 
"  I  have  somewhat  changed  my  plans  in  regard  to 
you.  Will  you  confide  in  me,  and  allow  me  to 
guide  you." 

"  Oh  !  yes,  yes,"  she  replied,  eagerly ;  "  I  feel  you 
know  best  what  is  right." 

"  Well,"  he  added,  "  to-morrow  evening  I  go  to 
New  York,  and  shall  expect  you  to  accompany  me. 
In  this  world  we  cannot  expect  life  to  be  all  sun 
shine,  nor  its  sky  entirely  cloudless.  We  all  have 
sorrows  and  reverses  to  bear,  and  need  mutual  for 
bearance  and  charity." 

He  arose,  and  bidding  her  hope  for  the  best,  and 
reiterating  his  assurances  of  protection,  he  departed. 


THE 


"  A  snare !  a  most  infernal  snare !     E'en  hell 
Itself,  with  all  its  malice  infinite, 
Would  burn  with  blushes  hotter  than  its  flamea, 
On  being  charged  with  deeds  so  foul." 


CHAPTEK  V. 

E  left  MAHY  MORE  at  the  railway 
station,  waiting  the  departure  of 
the  train  for  New  York.  When  the 
car-room  door  was  opened,  the  sta 
tion-master,  approaching  her  respectfully, 
notified  her  that  the  cars  were  ready,  and 
kindly  escorted  her  to  a  seat.  The  passen 
gers  were  soon  in  their  places,  the  last  bell 
rang  out  its  warning  peal,  and  the  express  train 
swept  away  with  the  speed  of  the  wind  over  its  iron 
track,  bearing  our  beautiful  heroine  onward  to  new 
scenes,  new  labors,  and,  perhaps,  to  new  trials. 

On  arriving  at  Fall  River,  the  conductor  (Mr. 
CLAFLIN)  attended  her  to  the  steamboat,  and  saw 
her  safely  seated  in  the  ladies'  cabin.  Then,  wishing 
her  a  prosperous  journey,  and  saluting  her  courte 
ously,  he  retired.  From  the  ladies'  cabin  he  went 
to  the  captain's  office,  and  delivered  the  letter 
intrusted  to  his  care  by  the  stranger. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  magnificent  steamer  was  on 
her  way.  Onward  she  sped  in  her  majestic  course 
over  the  calm  waters  toward  the  great  metropolis 
of  the  United  States. 


94  SIGNET  OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

Shortly  after,  Captain  BROWN  came  into  the  ladies' 
cabin.  Standing  at  the  door,  holding  an  open  letter 
in  his  hand,  to  which  he  frequently  referred,  he  cast 
a  searching  look  over  the  crowd  of  ladies  there  col 
lected,  as  if  he  were  looking  for  some  particular 
person  or  friend.  At  last  his  eyes  rested  on  Miss 
MORE,  who  had  timidly  withdrawn  to  the  most 
obscure  corner.  Scrutinizing  her  closely,  and  again 
referring  to  the  letter,  he  said  to  himself :  "  That 
must  be  the  young  lady.  My  friend  is  right ;  she  is 
indeed  a  beautiful  flower." 

"  Miss  MORE  ?  "  he  said,  interrogatively,  advancing 
to  the  place  where  she  sat. 

"  That  is  my  name,  sir,"  she  replied,  surprised  that 
she  should  be  known  to  any  person  there. 

"A  friend  of  mine,"  he  immediately  continued, 
"  has  commended  you  to  my  care ;  and  be  assured, 
Miss,  while  on  my  boat,  you  shall  want  for  no  atten 
tion  which  will  conduce  to  your  comfort.  Come," 
he  added,  "  supper  is  now  ready,  and  I  will  wait  on 
you  to  the  table." 

Grateful  for  his  kind  words,  she  took  his  arm,  and 
accompanied  him  to  the  supper-room. 

Every  traveler  over  this  favorite  route  remembers, 
with  pleasure,  the  brilliant  spectacle  which  the 
cabins  of  these  unrivaled  steamers  present,  when 
fully  lighted  up  at  the  tea-hour.  The  tables,  covered 
with  the  richest  and  costliest  tea-service,  splendidly 
decorated  with  flowers,  and  loaded  with  every  possi 
ble  luxury  to  tempt  the  appetite,  cannot  be  surpassed. 


THE   SNARE.  95 

The  beautiful  girl,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  Captain 
BROWN,  reared  in  the  seclusion  of  a  rural  district, 
was  completely  dazzled.  She  thought  she  had  never 
seen  anything  so  magnificent. 

After  supper,  learning  that  she  had  never  been  on 
a  steamboat  before,  the  captain  took  her  through 
the  superb  vessel,  every  part  of  which  she  surveyed 
with  the  eager  curiosity  of  a  child.  The  engine, 
particularly,  attracted  her  attention;  and  she  list 
ened  with  deep  interest  to  the  captain's  explana 
tions  of  its  construction,  and  wondered  how  men,  so 
weak  and  insignificant,  apparently,  could  construct 
such  a  monstrous  powrer,  and  control  it  with  so  much 
ease. 

The  captain's  duties  now  requiring  him  outside,  he 
reconducted  her  to  the  cabin.  Telling  her  that  he 
would  procure  a  carriage  in  the  morning,  and  send 
her  to  her  destined  abode  in  the  city,  and  giving  some 
directions  to  the  chambermaid,  he  bade  her  good 
night,  and  retired. 

It  was  a  beautiful,  calm  night,  and  MARY,  on 
retiring  to  bed,  soon  fell  asleep,  and  her  mind  floated 
away  into  the  land  of  dreams.  Again  she  was  at 
home,  pressed  to  the  heart  of  her  dear  mother, 
listening  to  the  merry  laugh  of  her  sisters,  and  the 
earnest,  loving  voice  of  EDWIN  MORLEY.  Then  she 
was  in  her  garden,  trimming  and  watering  her 
uowrers,  which  were  undulating  gracefully,  and 
nodding  to  each  other  in  the  balmy  atmosphere  of 
the  morning.  All  at  once  the  scene  changed  ;  clouds, 


96  SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

black  as  night,  covered  the  sky ;  awful  thunders 
shook  the  granite  shores;  red  lightnings  furrowed 
the  gathering  darkness,  and  through  the  gloom  she 
saw  the  dark  countenances  of  MATTHEW  ORALL  and 
MAY  MILLWOOD  peering  threateningly  upon  her. 
Hearing  a  rustling  at  her  feet,  she  looked  down,  and 
saw  a  loathsome  serpent,  which,  winding  among  the 
flowers,  glided  swiftly  by  her,  and  disappeared  in  a 
hedge. 

She  awoke  with  a  scream.  The  chambermaid  was 
standing  over  her,  looking  anxiously  in  her  face. 

"Are  you  ill,  Miss?"  she  inquired,  kindly. 

"  Oh !  no  ;  but  I  believe  I  have  been  dreaming. 
Thank  Heaven ! "  she  added,  "  it  was  only  a  dream." 

"  Well,  dear  child,"  said  the  chambermaid,  "  it  is 
time  to  get  up  now ;  we  are  almost  up  to  the  city." 

MARY  was  soon  dressed ;  but,  on  looking  around, 
seemed  to  miss  something. 

"  Oh !  your  flowers,"  quickly  exclaimed  the  kind- 
hearted  chambermaid ;  "  I  placed  them  in  a  vase, 
with  water,  thinking  you  might  wish  to  preserve 
them.  Here  they  are." 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you.  You  are,  indeed, 
very  kind,"  rejoined  MARY,  and  she  took  the  flowers, 
and  kissed  those  named  by  little  AGGIE,  with  deep 
emotion. 

Poor  girl !  little  did  she  think  that  a  serpent  was 
already  gliding  among  and  poisoning  the  sweetest 
flowers  which  bloomed  in  the  garden  of  her  hopes 
and  love. 


THE   SNAKE,  97 

The  noble  steamer  soon  rounded  up  to  the  dock, 
and  the  passengers  began  to  disembark. 

Not  long  before  the  arrival  of  the  boat  at  New 
York,  a  splendid  coach  drove  down  to  the  landing, 
from  which  a  well-formed  and  fashionably-dressed 
man  alighted.  He  gave  some  order  to  the  coach 
man,  and  .then  stationed  himself  where  he  could 
observe  all  the  passengers  as  they  passed  from  the 
steamer.  Although  his  countenance  indicated  good 
nature  and  some  generosity,  there  was  yet  something 
in  his  air  not  altogether  satisfactory,  on  a  close 
scrutiny.  His  complexion  was  too  florid,  and  some 
thing  of  a  dissipated  look  about  his  eyes,  seemed  to 
designate  him  as  one  of  the  fast  men  of  New  Y  ork. 
And  yet  there  was  such  a  manner  of  real  gentility 
about  him,  so  much  of  evident  good-breeding,  that 
one  would  hesitate  some  time  before  pronouncing 
him  such.  When  the  passengers  began  to  land,  he 
examined  closely  every  lady  as  she  passed  out  of  the 
boat.  At  length  his  eyes  were  riveted  on  a  most 
beautiful  girl,  who  was  just  crossing  the  platform, 
leaning  on  the  arm  of  Captain  BROWN. 

"That  superb  creature  must  be  the  one,"  he 
said  to  himself,  and  immediately  hastened  toward 
her. 

Captain  BROWN  conducted  her  to  a  coach,  and  was 
just  handing  her  in,  when  the  gentleman  approached, 
and  laid  his  hand  on  her  arm,  saying : 

"  Miss  MORE,  I  believe  ?  You  were  going  to  — r 
Seminary  near  Union  square  ?  " 


98  SIGNET   OF  KING    SOLOMON. 

"  I  am  Miss  MORE,"  she  replied  ;  "  and  that  is  the 
place  of  my  destination." 

"We  expected  you  this  morning,  and  it  was 
thought  best  to  meet  you  here,  and  save  you  the 
inconvenience  of  finding  your  way  there  alone.  I 
have  a  carriage  waiting  for  you.  Will  you  take  my 
arm?" 

The  captain  looked  at  the  gentleman  doubtingly ; 
but,  as  everything  appeared  right,  he  resigned  his 
charge  into  his  hands,  and,  with  many  wishes  for 
her  happiness  and  prosperity,  bade  her  adieu,  and 
returned  to  his  boat. 

The  gentleman,  placing  Miss  MOKE  in  the  carriage, 
took  a  seat  at  her  side,  and  they  were  rapidly  whirled 
along  up  Broadway  toward  the  Fifth  avenue. 

After  a  few  minutes'  drive,  the  coach  drew  up 
before  one  of  the  most  aristocratic  mansions  in  that 
fashionable  thoroughfare. 

The  gentleman,  with  great  gallantry,  assisted  the 
young  lady  to  alight ;  and,  ordering  a  porter  to  take 
in  her  trunks,  conducted  her  to  the  house. 

The  artless  and  unsophisticated  beauty  was  com 
pletely  dazzled  by  the  splendor  of  that  mansion. 
She  fancied  she  was  in  the  fabled  palace  of  ALADDIN. 
Such  heavy,  massive  furniture,  gorgeous  tapestry, 
soft  Turkey  carpets,  and  gigantic  mirrors,  she  had 
never  seen  before.  The  parlors  and  halls  were  pro 
fusely  ornamented  with  the  costliest  pictures — --works 
of  the  first  artists — all  proofs  of  the  good  taste  of  the 
proprietor. 


THE   SNARE.  99 

"  Miss  MORE  will  consider  herself  at  home,  here," 
said  the  gentleman,  casting  upon  her  a  look  of 
admiration,  which  caused  her  face  and  neck  to 
crimson.  "  The  summer  term  does  not  commence 
until  next  week ;  in  the  meanwhile,  you  will  have 
time  to  get  well  rested,  and  see  some  of  the  objects 
of  interest  for  wrhich  our  city  is  celebrated.  It  will 
be  a  pleasing  task  to  me  to  act  as  cicerone  to  one 
so  lovely." 

He  left  the  room,  and  directly  a  maid  appeared 
to  show  MARY  her  chamber.  Leading  the  way, 
she  conducted  the  young  girl  to  a  luxuriously- 
furnished  apartment,  ornamented  with  vases  of 
fresh  flowers,  pictures,  and  statuettes,  in  the  highest 
style  of  art.  After  seeing  that  everything  was 
properly  arranged  for  the  comfort  of  the  new  occu 
pant,  the  maid  withdrew,  casting  a  curious  look  on 
the  sweet  girl,  who  had  taken  a  seat  at  the  open 
window. 

"  She  is  very  handsome,  truly,"  said  the  maid,  as 
she  descended  the  great  stairway  to  the  hall.  "  It 
is  really  too  bad  of  the  colonel  to  think  of  destroying 
so  fair  a  flower.  Oh !  these  fashionable  folks ! — but 
it's  none  of  my  business." 

Although  pleased  with  her  reception,  MAKY  was 
by  no  means  at  ease.  A  vague  fear,  which  she 
could  not  throw  off,  filled  her  heart ;  a  serpent 
seemed  to  hiss  upon  her  from  every  flower ;  a  danger 
appeared  to  lurk  under  every  picture.  She  took 
the  .bouquet,  the  love-offering  of  her  sweet  sister 


100  SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

AGGIE,  and  kissed,  over  and  over  again,  the  flowers 
which  that  affectionate  child  had  named  to  represent 
the  beloved  ones  she  had  left  behind  in  her  dear  old 
home. 

Becoming  at  length  partially  reassured,  she  com 
menced  dressing  Herself;  and  had  scarcely  com 
pleted  her  toilet  when  a  servant  came  to  announce 
that  breakfast  was  ready.  She  descended  to  the 
drawing-room,  where  the  gentleman  was  waiting  to 
receive  her.  He  politely  offered  her  his  arm,  and 
conducted  her  to  the  dining-hall. 

"Mrs.  ALBERTSON,  said  he  to  a  tall,  dark,  but 
tolerably  handsome  lady,  who  was  seated  at  the 
head  of  the  table,  "  allow  me  to  introduce  to  you  our 
expected  guest,  Miss  MORE." 

The  lady  welcomed  her  with  a  patronizing  air,  and, 
begging  her  to  feel  perfectly  at  home,  seated  her  at 
her  left.  The  party  consisted  only  of  these  three. 
The  breakfast  was  delicious  and  elegant.  The  gen 
tleman — witty,  intelligent,  and  well-informed — made 
himself  charming,  ar-d  enlivened  the  repast  with 
many  anecdotes  illustrative  of  persons  and  places  in 
New  York,  and  soon  MARY  began  to  feel  that  she 
was  among  friends  indeed. 

The  breakfast  over,  MARY  returned  to  her  room  to 
write  letters  to  her  friends. 

The  gentleman  retired  to  his  library,  seated  him 
self  at  a  desk,  took  from  his  pocket  a  letter,  and, 
spreading  it  open  before  him,  read  it  attentively. 

"  "Well,"  he  said,  speaking  to  himself,  "  ORALL  has 


THE   SNARE.  101 

not  overrated  her  beauty ;  she  is  worth  her  weight 
in  gold.  If  I  could  but  win  the  love  of  this  sweet 
angel,  I  should  be  happier  than  an  emperor." 

At  this  moment  his  eyes  wandered  upward,  and 
rested  for  a  time  on  a  picture  which  hung  opposite 
him  on  the  wall.  It  was  the  portrait  of  a  young  lady 
of  exquisite  loveliness,  who  seemed  to  look  down 
upon  him,  her  eyes  beaming  with  love,  confidence, 
and  affection. 

A  sigh  of  regret  escaped  him,  as  he  exclaimed  : 

"  Why,  oh !  why  did  I  throw  away  so  much  joy, 
and  cast  myself  into  this  burning  tide  ?  But  it  mat 
ters  not ;  I  am  in  the  whirlpool,  and  there  I  must 
play,  till  it  drags  me  down  into  its  dark  vortex." 

Pausing  for  a  few  minutes,  he  took  pen  and  paper, 
and  wrote  as  follows  : 

NEW  YORK,  June  25,  185-. 
To  ME.  MATTHEW  ORALL  : 

DEAR  SIR — Your  description  of  the  person  was  perfect.  The 
bird  was  caged  without  difficulty;  but  it  remains  to  be  seen 
whether  she  will  sing.  I  inclose  your  reward — two  hundred  dol 
lars.  If  I  can  gain  the  love  of  this  girl,  I  will  marry  her,  and 
leave  this  life  of  debauchery,  of  which  I  am  heartily  ashamed. 

Yours,  etc.,  J.  S . 

He  inclosed  two  one  hundred  dollar  notes  in  this 
letter,  placed  it  in  an  envelope,  and  sealed  it. 

Not  long  after,  he  dressed  himself,  and  went  down 
town  to  attend  to  his  business.  He  had  scarcely 
entered  his  counting-room  before  he  was  joined  by 
three  gentlemen,  all  elegantly  dressed,  and  exhibiting 


102  SIGNET    OF   KING    SOLOMON. 

that  exquisite  polish  which  distinguishes  the  aris 
tocracy  of  New  York.  Although  they  moved  in  the 
highest  circles,  and  were  thrifty  merchants,  it  was 
plain  to  be  seen,  from  their  conversation,  that  they 
were  the  most  unprincipled  roues  in  the  world. 

"  I  say,  colonel,"  said  one  of  them,  "  I  am  head 
and  ears  in  love." 

"  Indeed ! "  replied  our  gentleman ;  "  again !  And 
who  is  the  fair  charmer  this  time?" 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  can't  make  out,''  replied 
the  other.  "  But  such  eyes,  hair,  complexion,  and 
mouth  !  By  Jove  !  I  would  give  a  thousand  dollars 
for  one  kiss  from  those  rosy  lips ! " 

"But  where  did  you  see  her?"  asked  the  gentle 
man. 

"I  was  coining  from  Boston,  last  night,  on  the 
Metropolis,"  rejoined  the  former,  "  when  I  saw  a 
young  lady,  beautiful  enough  to  tempt  a  saint  to 
perdition.  I  tried  every  way  to  get  near  her,  to 
offer  some  civility,  and  thus  get  into  a  conversation 
with  her;  but  she  was  so  jealously  guarded  by  the 
captain  of  the  boat,  and  a  dragon  of  a  chamber 
maid,  that  I  found  it  impossible,  and  so  gave  up  the 
pursuit  in  disgust." 

"  It  is  well  you  did,"  said  the  gentleman ;  "  that 
piece  of  dimity  belongs  to  me  ;  she  was  on  her  way 
to  meet  me.  So  you  must  give  her  up." 

"  The  devil ! "  exclaimed  the  man  in  love  ;  "  but 
honor  among  thieves,  you  know ;  so  here  is  my  hand, 
a  pledge  that  I  will  not  molest  you." 


THE  SNARE.  103 

-  "But  come,  gentlemen,"  said  the  man  who  was 
addressed  as  colonel,  "  the  girl  is  a  splendid  speci 
men  of  her  sex,  and  I  am  proud  of  my  conquest ; 
and  if  you  will  meet  me  to-morrow  evening  I  will 
introduce  you." 

"  Agreed,"  exclaimed  the  three  at  once ;  "  we'll  be 
there,  and  pay  our  court  to  the  new  beauty." 

Now,  these  four  men  were  gentlemen  of  wealth 
and  standing  in  New  York,  of  undoubted  integrity 
and  honor  in  all  business  transactions  ;  and  yet  they 
could  coolly  and  deliberately  conspire  to  destroy 
female  innocence  without  hesitation,  or  one  com 
punctious  twinge  of  conscience. 

At  three  o'clock,  the  gentleman,  or  the  colonel,  as 
his  companions-iri-evil  called  him,  returned  to  his 
princely  residence  on  the  Fifth  avenue  to  dine. 

The  dinner  passed  off  pleasantly.  MARY  seemed 
to  have  become  accustomed  to  the  place,  and 
apparently  enjoyed  the  society  of  her  new-found 
friends.  The  colonel  made  himself  agreeable.  He 
was  deferential  and  polite ;  and  when  the  dinner  was 
over,  invited  the  ladies  to  take  a  drive  with  him  in 
the  upper  part  of  the  city. 

MARY  withdrew  to  her  room  to  prepare  for  the 
excursion,  while  the  colonel,  after  a  brief  conversa 
tion  with  Mrs.  ALBERTSON,  went  out  to  order  the 
carriage. 

When  all  was  ready,  MARY  descended,  and  stood 
in  the  door,  waiting  for  the  house-keeper.  She  soon 
appeared,  but  without  any  preparation  for  the  ride. 


104  SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

"  I  ani  sorry  to  disappoint  you,"  she  said ;  "  but  I 
remember  an  engagement  this  afternoon,  and  must 
beg  Miss  MORE  to  excuse  me.  It  will  make  no 
matter ;  you  will  enjoy  the  drive  quite  as  well  as  if  I 
were  with  you." 

MARY  hesitated  a  moment ;  but  seeing  no  impro 
priety  in  it,  although  Mrs.  ALBERTSON  did  not 
accompany  them,  descended  the  marble  steps,  and 
the  colonel  handed  her  into  the  coach.  Entering 
after  her,  he  closed  the  door,  and  the  carriage  rolled 
away  over  the  Bloomingdale  road. 

It -was  a  charming  evening.  The  air  was  fragrant 
with  the  perfume  of  millions  of  flowers,  and 
MARY  thought,  as  she  approached  the  country,  she 
had  never  seen  anything  half  so  fair.  Deeply 
imbued  with  poetic  sentiments,  no  one  could  ap 
preciate  the  beautiful  in  nature  or  art  better  than 
she,  and  she  greatly  enjoyed  the  spectacle  she  now 
beheld. 

The  colonel,  discovering  the  bent  of  her  tastes, 
shaped  his  conversation  to  suit  them.  His  observa 
tions  were  so  just,  his  remarks  so  poetical,  and  his 
opinions  generally  so  correct,  that  MARY'S  confidence 
was  completely  gained.  She  laughed  and  clapped 
her  pretty  hands  in  her  innocent  joy,  and  was  so 
entirely  unsuspecting  that  she  did  not  perceive  that 
the  gentleman  had  quietly  wound  his  arm  around 
her  waist,  and  was  drawing  her  more  and  more 
closely  to  him. 

The  carriage  now  whirled  along  the  banks  of  the 


THE   SNARE.  105 

noble  Hudson,  affording  a  very  fine  view  of  the 
opposite  shore  and  its  wild,  romantic  scenery. 

After  a  drive  of  an  hour  and  a  half  in  various  di 
rections,  through  wild  glens,  over  hills,  and  through 
winding  valleys,  the  coach  stopped  before  an  elegant 
little  cottage,  almost  entirely  concealed  from  view  by 
a  profusion  of  umbrageous  trees. 

"This  is  my  country-house,"  said  the  colonel; 
"  we  will  stop  a  short  time  to  breathe  the  horses,  and 
then  we'll  start  on  our  return  to  the  city." 

They  alighted,  and  MARY  examined  the  environs 
of  the  cottage  with  admiration.  The  colonel  guided 
her  over  the  grounds,  and  pointed  out  and  explained 
to  her  the  respective  properties  of  the  rare  and 
beautiful  flowers  and  plants  which  bordered  the 
numerous  walks.  Then,  ascending  a  hill  of  con 
siderable  altitude,  they  seated  themselves  on  a  rustic 
bench  to  enjoy  the  magnificent  prospect  that  opened 
before  them. 

The  day  was  rapidly  declining.  The  sun,  undu 
lating  in  a  sky  of  pure  amber,  over  the  Palisades, 
wrapt  these  celebrated  cliffs  and  the  intervening 
river  in  a  sheen  of  glory.  The  birds  were  chanting 
their  evening  songs  in  the  adjacent  woods,  and  the 
calm  Hudson  rolled  with  a  soft,  silvery  cadence  over 
its  sandy  shore.  All  nature  seemed  to  overflow  with 
melody  and  song,  and  gleam  with  beauty,  and  dis« 
solve  in  love. 

"  Oh ! "  exclaimed  the  enthusiastic  girl,  "  I  could 
remain  here  forever ;  all  is  so  calm,  lovely,  and  in- 
5* 


106  SIGNET   OF    KING   SOLOMON. 

spiring ;  and  it  all  reminds  me  so  of  his  beauty  and 
love,  who  has  created  the  whole,  as  this  glory  is  but 
a  reflection  of  himself." 

"  True,  true,"  rejoined  her  companion  ;  "  the  worlds 
swim  in  glory,  and  all  nature  dissolves  in  love.  Love 
is  the  life  of  the  universe,  of  gods,  angels,  and  men. 
We  cannot  live  without  love.  What  more  desolate 
than  a  soul  uncheered  by  its  blessed  light!  But 
come,  my  dear  girl,  it  is  time  to  return  now.  The 
horses  are  refreshed,  and  are  impatient  to  be  upon 
the  road  again." 

He  held  her  small,  white  hand  in  his  as  he  led  her 
down  the  hill,  and  through  the  garden  and  park,  to 
the  carriage. 

The  horses  dashed  gaily  down  the  road,  and  they 
were  soon  brought  to  the  colonel's  residence  in  the 
city,  where  tea  was  already  Waiting  for  them. 

After  tea,  the  colonel  retired  to  his  library,  and, 
throwing  himself  on  a  luxurious  lounge,  appeared  to 
be  lost  in  meditation. 

"  That  girl  is  a  jewrel! "  at  last  he  exclaimed  ;  "  and 
I  must  wear  it.  If  her  heart  is  unoccupied,  it  wijl 
be  easy  to  win  her.  But,  suppose  she  already  loves ! 
ORALL  wrote,  I  think,  that  she  was  engaged  to  a 
down-east  rustic.  Well,  it  will  not  be  hard  to  sup 
plant  him  ;  if  I  can  only  keep  her  in  my  power  a  few 
days  more  it  will  be  accomplished." 

As  he  spoke  thus,  he  casually  glanced  at  the  oppo 
site  wall.  The  picture — that  face  of  radiant  beauty 
— seemed  to  look  down  reproachfully  upon  him.  He 


THE   SNARE.  107 

turned  away  his  head,  as  if  to  avoid  the  condemna 
tory  glance. 

"Yes,"  he  resumed,  "  she  shall  be  mine,  and  I  will 
make  my  first  essay  this  very  night." 

He  arose,  and  rang  a  hell.  A  servant  directly  ap 
peared  at  the  door. 

"  Bring  some  lights,"  he  ordered,  "  and  ask  Miss 
MORE  if  she  will  favor  me  with  her  presence  a  few 
moments  in  the  library." 

The  lights  were  immediately  brought,  and  not  long 
after  MARY  entered  the  room,  a  very  vision  of  love 
liness.  The  colonel  gazed  upon  her  with  undisguised 
admiration. 

"I  have  sent  for  you,  Miss  MARY,,"  he  said,  in  a 
voice  bland  and  soft,  "  because,  knowing  your  fond 
ness  for  study,  I  desired  to  make  you  familiar  with 
this  room,  and  wish  you  to  use  it  as  your  own.  YOU 
will  find  in  these  cases  a  great  variety  of  select  works 
in  history,  poetry  and  philosophy.  I  think  you  are 
fond  of  poetry;"  and  he  took  down  a  superb  copy 
of  BYRON,  and  seated  himself  on  the  sofa  where  she 
was  reclining. 

He  opened  the  volume  at  the  commencement  of 
the  beautiful  poem  entitled  "  Parisina"  and  read 
with  good  effect  the  following  lines  : 

"Now  is  the  time  when  from  the  boughs 
The  nightingale's  soft  note  is  heard; 
Now  is  the  time  that  lover's  vows 
Seem  soft  in  every  whispered  word." 

"You    remember,"   he   continued,  "when  in  the 


108  SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

country,  a  little  while  since,  you  spoke  of  love  as  a 
necessity  of  the  universe — its  very  life?  Well,  I 
agree  with  you.  Life  without  love  is  a  mere  desert, 
without  one  oasis,  or  flower,  or  cooling  fountain. 
Now,  tell  me.  dear  girl,  did.,  you  ever  feel  love  as  a 
necessity  of  your  being ;  a  strong,  earnest,  overpow 
ering  yearning  for  a  kindred  soul,  who  could  reflect 
your  sentiments,  share  your  thoughts — in  short, 
become  the  complemental  part  of  yourself?" 

"Indeed,  sir,"  she  replied,  somewhat  confused, 
"  you  ask  me  a  strange  question,  and  must  excuse 
me  if  I  do  not  answer.  Did  I  feel  those  strong 
yearnings,  or  rather  did  I  cherish  an  affection  for 
some  one,  the  sentiment  would  be  too  sacred  to  be 
made  the  subject  of  discussion  or  discourse." 

Not  at  all  disconcerted,  he  proceeded : 

"Do  you  believe  in  love  at  first  sight ?" 

"Not  having  had  any  experience  of  the  kind,"  she 
rejoined,  "  I  can  neither  believe  nor  disbelieve." 

"  Do  you  think  it  possible  for  a  man  to  fall  in  love 
with  a  portrait,  and  cherish  the  affection  till  it  comes 
to  be  an  overpowering  passion  ? — until  he  is  ready  to 
brave  every  danger,  and  make  any  sacrifice  to  find 
its  original?" 

"  Your  questions,  sir,"  she  returned,  "  are  entirely 
beyond  my  comprehension  ;  you  should  ask  one  more 
skilled  in  the  metaphysics  and  philosophy  of  love 
than  a  young  and  inexperienced  girl  like  myself  can 
possibly  be." 

"  But  you  have  a  heart,  and  are  a  woman,"  he 


THE   SNARE.  109 

resumed ;  "  and  women  learn  by  instinct  what  men 
learn  by  experience  and  philosophy.     But  listen  : — 
I  have  a  friend  who  some  time  since  received  the 
portrait   of    a  young  lady  of    almost   superhuman 
loveliness,  and   it  awakened  in  his  heart  the  deepest 
sentiment  of  love.     It  was  his  constant  companion 
by  day  and  night.     The  passion  grew  with  him  till  it 
overmastered  all  other.     He  sought  everywhere  for 
the  original,  but,  for  a  long   time  without  success. 
At  length  he  was  informed  that  she  was  a  resident 
of  Massachusetts,  but  was  soon  to  leave  for  a  distant 
State.     Learning    that   on   a  certain    morning   she 
would  arrive  in  New  York,  and  having  ascertained 
that  she  was  personally  unacquainted  with  the  friends 
she  contemplated  visiting,  he  formed  a  plan  to  enjoy 
her  society,  and  get  an  opportunity  to  press  his  suit. 
It  was,  no  doubt,  a  great  crime  he  meditated  and 
accomplished,  but  his  love  was  also  great.     His  plan 
succeeded ;  the  unsuspecting  girl,  believing  him  to 
have  been  sent  by  her  friends,  went  with  him  without 
hesitation  to  his  house.   His  love  now  became  worship. 
He  adores  the  very  ground  on  which  she  treads ; 
but  as  yet  he  has  not  had  courage  to  tell  his  love. 
Now,  tell  me,  Miss  MARY,"  he  added,  "  what  would 
you  do,  were  you  that  young  girl?     Would  not  such 
profound  affection   and  devotion  touch  your  heart, 
and  awaken  an  answering  sentiment  within  it  ?  " 

"  What  another  in  ray  place  might  do,"  she  re 
sponded,  "  I  know  not ;  but  I  could  not  love,  however 
much  I  might  pity  Iris  misfortunes." 


110  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

"Look  at  this,"  said  the  colonel,  as  he  drew  a 
miniature  portrait  from  his  bosom,  and  handed 
it  to  her ;  that  picture  is  the  one  which  inspired 
this  fatal  love." 

Pressing  the  spring  lightly,  the  case  opened,  and, 
to  her  dismay,  it  disclosed  her  own  features. 

"  Yes,  you,  dearest  girl,"  he  proceeded,  "  are  the 
original,  my  soul's  idol,  and  I  am  the  unfortunate 
victim  of  a  hopeless  love." 

"What! "cried  the  terrified  girl,  almost  with  a 
scream,  rising  up,  and  standing  pale  and  trembling 
before  him  ;  "  you  are  not  Mr.  ARMSTRONG,  the  prin 
cipal  of  Seminary." 

"  Indeed  I  am  not,"  he  rejoined ;  "  I  am  Colonel 
SCRANTON,  and  your  devout  worshiper." 

"  Oh,  base  man ! "  cried  the  poor  girl ;  "  how  could 
you  so  cruelly  deceive  me  ?  I  must  leave  this  house 
without  delay.  I  will  see  Mrs.  ALBERTSON." 

"  It  will  be  of  no  use,"  he  replied ;  "  she  and  all 
the  servants  are  my  creatures,  and  have  orders  not 
to  allow  you  to  leave  the  house,  nor  hold  any  com 
munication  with  any  outside." 

"  Oh,  my  GOD  ! "  the  poor  girl  exclaimed,  fran 
tically  ;  "  a  prisoner !  Heaven  help  me,  what  shall 
I  do!" 

"Love  me,  my  pretty  bird,"  replied  the  wicked 
man,  "  and  all  will  be  well.  I  am  rich  ;  you  shall  be 
mistress  of  this  house  and  that  pretty  cottage  in  the 
country,  which  you  admired  so  much ;  and  your 
mother  and  sisters,  too,  shall  be  amply  provided  for." 


THE   SNARE.  Ill 

The  poor  maiden  was  so  terror-stricken  that  she 
could  not  speak. 

The  colonel,  overcome  by  his  criminal  passion, 
seized  her  in  his  arms,  and  attempted  to  plant 
a  kiss  on  her  lips.  She  struggled  a  moment, 
but  at  last,  with  superhuman  strength,  broke  from 
his  impure  embrace,  and,  rushing  from  the  room, 
gained  her  chamber,  and,  locking  the  door, 
threw  herself  upon  her  bed  in  an  agony  of  grief. 
She  thought  of  her  mother  and  the  dear  ones  at 
home. 

"  Oh,  mother,  dear  mother ! "  she  cried,  "  your  fore 
bodings  were  not  groundless.  Your  hapless  child  is 
indeed  beset  with  perils." 

She  tried  to  collect  her  scattered  senses,  so  as  to 
see  clearly  the  calamity  which  had  befallen  her.  It 
was  plain  that  she  was  the  victim  of  some  deep-laid 
plot,  the  purpose  of  which  was  her  ruin.  But  why 
should  any  one  wish  her  ill  ? — she  knew  of  none  she 
had  injured. 

Then  she  remembered  the  words  of  the  strange 
man  who  rescued  her  from  the  hands  of  MATTHEW 
ORALL  :  "  Even  now  spirits  of  evil  are  planning 
schemes  to  bring  you  to  harm."  He  then  knew  of 
enemies  and  plots.  The  more  she  indulged  in  con 
jectures  the  more  she  became  confused.  She  never 
once  dreamed  that  ORALL,  bad  as  he  was,  would  go 
so  far.  Indeed,  she  had  thought  so  little  of  his 
attempt  to  carry  her  off  that  she  had  never  men 
tioned  it  to  her  mother  or  lover. 


112  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

Seeing  no  means  of  escape,  and  utterly  prostrated, 
the  unhappy  girl  sobbed  herself  to  sleep. 

Sleep,  gentle  maiden,  sleep  in  peace.  Angels 
will  watch  over  your  innocence,  and  shield  you  with 
their  protecting  wings. 

Meanwhile,  Colonel  SCEANTON  was  walking  the 
floor  of  his  library,  considering  his  probable  pros 
pects  of  success.  It  was  evident  that  he  was  not 
discouraged.  "  Let  me  see,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"she  said  if  she  could  not  love  her  abductor  she 
might  pity  him.  Well,  that  is  something.  Pity  is 
but  a  step  from  love,  as  the  poet  says : 

"  'Love  walks  with  pity  under  arm.' 

"  Courage,  then  ;  I  shall  win  her  yet." 

MAKY  MORE  was  indeed  in  the  coils  of  the  serpent. 


EFFECT  OF  THE  SIGNET. 


'And  fain  would  her  sons  all  her  high  precepts  keep, 

Defending  the  right — amid  all  peril  and  danger, 
Bringing  smiles  of  new  joy  to  the  eyelids  that  weep, 

And  befriending  the  poor,  the  oppressed,  and  the  stranger: 
This,  their  life-task,  her  due, 
By  her  teachings  pursue, 
With  the  Eye  of  Omniscience  forever  in  view; 
Till  their  labor  accepted,  as  columns  of  grace, 
In  the  temple  eternal,  hereafter  have  place." 

MART  G.  HALE. 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

ATTHEW  ORALL,  in  his  peregri 
nations  about  the  country,  often 
visited  New  York  in  search  of 
adventures  and  funds.  He  had 
for  many  years,  however,  well  kept 
up  his  character  at  home,  constantly  asso 
ciated  with  that  class  of  persons  who  were 
noted  for  their  depraved  morals  and  suc 
cessful  depredations  on  society.  He  had  thus  early 
become  an  expert  gambler  and  able  professor  of 
"  thimble-rigging,"  "  the  little  joker,"  and  other  ap 
proved  means  of  getting  possession  of  the  money  of 
such  unsophisticated  countrymen  as  happened  to 
come  in  his  way. 

Falling  in  with  Colonel  SCBANTON,  in  one  of  these 
visits,  that  practiced  deceiver  soon  discovered  his 
thoroughly  unprincipled  character,  and  often  em 
ployed  him  in  affairs  of  not  the  most  honorable 
description. 

When  ORALL  was  repulsed  by  Miss  MORE,  and  in 
furious  hate  was  contriving  some  scheme  .of  revenge 
against  her,  his  thoughts  chanced  to  fall  on  Colonel 
SCBAKTON.  Knowing  well  the  habits  of  that  heart- 


116  SIGNET   OF   KING    SOLOMON. 

less  libertine,  lie  immediately  conceived  the  idea  of 
making  him  the  instrument  of  his  vengeance.  He 
could  thus,  also,  replenish  his  exhausted  purse ;  for 
he  knew  the  colonel  would  pay  liberally  if  he  onco 
succeeded  in  placing  Miss  MORE  in  his  power,  which 
he  did  not  doubt  he  could  easily  do. 

He  directly  wrote  the  colonel,  giving  him  a  descrip 
tion  of  that  beautiful  girl,  inclosing,  at  the  same 
time,  a  miniature  likeness  of  the  maiden,  of  which, 
by  some  means  or  other,  he  had  possessed  himself. 
He  proposed  to  deliver  her  into  his  hands  for  a  con* 
sideration. 

The  colonel  immediately  accepted  the  proposition, 
and  in  due  time  the  vile  scheme  was  carried  into 
effect,  as  has  been  already  related. 

We  have  seen  how  the  colonel  sped  in  his  suit. 
Although  he  had  not  made  much  progress,  he  did 
not  doubt  of  final  success.  Skilled  in  all  the  ways 
of  the  heart,  he  believed  that  in  a  few  days,  under 
his  fascinations,  that  pity,  which  she  confessed  she 
might  feel  for  one  in  the  situation  he  professed  to 
be,  would,  by  a  natural  transition,  pass  into  love. 
Consequently,  he  awoke  the  next  morning,  after  the 
scene  in  the  library,  in  excellent  humor  with  himself 
and  all  the  world. 

As  to  our  heroine,  after  a  night  of  disturbed  slum 
ber,  she  arose  in  the  morning,  resolved,  as  her  best 
course,  to  appear  not  to  remember  the  scenes  of  the 
preceding  evening,  but  watch  closely  for  any  chances 
of  escape  that  might  offer.  Colonel  SCRANTON  had 


WHAT  THE   SIGNET  EFFECTED.  117 

completely  bewildered  her.  His  conversations  on 
general  subjects  were  so  agreeable,  liis  views  so  just, 
and  then  he  spoke  of  his  love  with  so  much  earnest 
ness  and  apparent  sincerity,  she  knew  not  what  to 
think.  Did  he  really  love  her  ?  or  wras  he  an  unprin 
cipled  villain,  seeking  to  ruin  her?  She  did  not 
know  whether  to  hate  or  pity  him.  She  could  not 
love  him ;  for  her  faithful  heart  was  fast  anchored  in 
the  bosom  of  EDWIN  MOKLEY.  But,  then,  woman 
is  fond  of  admiration,  and  will  forgive  man  much  if 
she  believes  his  crimes  have  been  committed  through 
love  of  her. 

Determined  to  escape,  and  knowing  that  it  would 
be  useless  to  apply  to  the  servants,  she  resolved  to 
appeal  to  the  honor  of  the  colonel,  and  persuade  him, 
if  possible,  to  restore  her  to  her  friends. 

The  colonel,  however,  went  out  early  in  the  morn 
ing,  and  she  had  no  opportunity  of  seeing  him  till 
late  in  the  afternoon,  when  he  joined  her  in  one  of 
the  drawing-rooms. 

He  was  unusually  courteous ;  for  he  evidently 
desired  to  gain  her  confidence.  He  saw  she  was  no 
ordinary  person,  and  would  not  be  gained  through 
mere  passion.  Her  reason  and  conscience  must  be 
perverted,  and  this  he  thought  possible  through  an 
artful  and  infernal  logic,  of  which  he  was  perfect 
master.  It  is  true,  this  would  require  time,  and  the 
exercise  of  much  prudence.  He  knew  that  to  win 
her  he  must  make  her  believe  that  his  purposes  were 
honorable. 


118  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

Taking  a  seat  by  her  side,  lie  said,  in  a  voice  soft 
and  tender :  "  MARY,  dear  MARY,  I  hope  you  were  not 
offended  at  the-  occurrences  of  last  evening.  In 
abducting  you,  and  keeping  you  a  prisoner  in  my 
house,  I  know  I  have  committed  a  great  crime  ;  but 
then  the  fatal  love  which  consumes  me  seems  to  me 
a  sufficient  excuse.  Your  own  nature  is  so  calm  and 
gentle  you  cannot  tell  what  madness  and  folly — even 
crimes — a  man  may  be  guilty  of  who  is  the  victim  of 
an  over-mastering  passion  like  mine.  Nay,  fair  girl, 
do  not  start ;  for  I  meditate  no  crimes  toward  you, 
sweet  one ;  but  I  cannot  refrain  from  saying  how 
deeply  I  love  you,  and  how  highly  I  appreciate  your 
unequaled  beauty,  your  graces  and  accomplishments, 
both  of  person  and  mind.  Now,  say,  dearest,"  he 
added,  "  do  you  forgive  me  ?  " 

The  poor  girl  could  not  answer.  She  knew  in  her 
heart  she  could  not  forgive  him ;  but  his  soft,  musical 
words,  subdued  manner,  and  assumed  tenderness  had 
so  confused  her  reason  she  could  not  speak.  She  sat 
there,  trembling  under  his  fascinating  gaze,  like  a  bird 
fluttering  in  the  infectious  breath  of  a  serpent.  She 
seemed  like  one  in  a  dream.  At  length  recovering 
herself,  she  suddenly  arose,  and  placing  her  hand  on 
his  arm,  and  looking  up  into  his  face  with  an  earnest, 
pleading  look : 

"Oh,  sir!  be  generous  and  just,"  she  cried;  "re 
lease  me,  and  allow  me  to  go  to  my  friends,  and  I 
will 'freely  forgive  you,  and  forget  that  you  have  ever 
wronged  me.  I  never  can  return  your  love,  nor 


WHAT   THE   SIGNET  EFFECTED.  119 

voluntarily  be  yours,  and  surely  you  would  not  out 
rage  a  poor,  helpless  girl.  Do,  do  let  me  go  !  See, 
I  implore  you  on  my  knees!"  And  the  hapless 
maiden  sank  down  at  his  feet. 

Colonel  SCRANTON  looked  down  on  the  graceful 
form  now  bending  before  him  like  a  drooping  flower, 
and  devoured  her  with  his  burning  glances.  His 
senses  inflamed,  and  his  blood  on  fire,  he  was  deter 
mined  that  she  should  not  escape  him.  Forgetting 
the  plan  which  he  had  adopted,  and  which  his 
reason  told  him  was  the  only  one  that  could  succeed, 
he  aUowed  himself  to  be  borne  away  by  the  storm 
of  passion  that  now  raged  uncontrolled  through  his 
heart.  He  dissembled  no  longer ;  but  exclaimed,  as 
he  grasped  her  in  his  strong  arms,  and  covered  her 
with  his  vile  caresses,  "  Mine  you  are,  and  mine  you 
shall  be." 

"Never!"  she  cried;  and,  with  the  strength  of 
desperation,  she  broke  from  his  corrupt  embrace, 
and  fled  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  drawing-room, 
where  she  stood  confronting  him  in  all  the  dig 
nity  of  offended  virtue.  He  bent  his  head  under 
the  look  of  withering  scorn  which  she  cast  upon 
him. 

At  length  he  said,  in  a  voice  hoarse  with  concen 
trated  rage  :  "  You  cannot  escape  me.  Your  reputa 
tion  is  already  hopelessly  compromised;  you  are 
regarded  as  the  favorite  flower  of  my  harem,  and  I 
intend  this  evening  to  introduce  my  beautiful 
mistress  to  some  select  friends.  So  make  your- 


120  SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

self  as  charming  and  agreeable  as  possible,  for 
I  want  them  to  see  what  a  brilliant  prize  I  have 
won." 

With  these  words,  he  left  the  room,  and  passed 
into  his  library. 

Left  alone,  the  unfortunate  girl,  in  utter  despair, 
sunk  down  upon  an  ottoman,  and  buried  her  face  in 
her  hands,  exclaiming :  "  Oh,  my  GOD  !  is  there  no 
help  ?  Oh,  my  mother,  my  poor  mother !  how  little 
do  you  dream  of  the  terrible  fate  which  has  fallen  on 
your  poor  child ! " 

The  helpless  girl  felt  herself  deserted  by  heaven 
and  earth.  Her  position  was  so  new  and  strange,  so 
whoUy  unexpected,  she  doubted  whether  she  really 
possessed  her  senses,  or  might  not  be  dreaming. 
She  racked  her  brain  to  discover  some  means  of 
escape,  but  without  success.  No  prisoner  was  ever 
guarded  with  more  jealous  care.  . 

"  Oh,  I  shall  go  mad ! "  she  cried,  in  a  tone  of  inde 
scribable  woe,  and  fell  prostrate  upon  the  ottoman, 
nearly  deprived  of  her  senses. 

She  must  have  been  in  that  stupor  of  sorrow  for 
some  time  ;  for  when  she  revived,  and  opened  her  eyes, 
the  last  glimmer  of  day  had  disappeared,  and  the 
parlors  and  drawing-rooms  were  brilliantly  lighted. 
She  arose,  and  was  just  fleeing  to  her  chamber,  when 
the  door  opened,  and  Colonel  SCRANTON  appeared, 
followed  by  three  gentlemen,  whom  he  immediate^ 
introduced  as  his  best  friends,  and  saying  that  he 
hoped  she  would  find  their  society  agreeable. 


WHAT   THE   .SIGNET   EFFECTED.  121 

The  terror-stricken  child,  scarcely  knowing  where 
she  was,  or  what  she  did,  her  senses  were  so  be 
numbed,  saluted  the  gentlemen  mechanically,  and 
advanced  a  few  steps  toward  the  door,  as  if  she 
would  leave  the  room,  when  some  sudden  thought 
or  impression,  which  she  herself  could  not  define, 
restrained  her,  and  she  returned,  and  seated  herself 
at  a  table  by  the  side  of  a  shaded  lamp,  and  ap 
peared  to  be  busy  with  some  embroidery. 

The  three  gentlemen  were  HARRY  LORILLARD, 
CHARLES  BENTON  and  FRANK  BORLAND — the  boon 
companions  of  Colonel  SCRANTON,  whom  we  have 
already  once  seen  at  the  counting-room  of  the  latter. 
They  had  come  according  to  agreement  to  see  the 
colonel's  new  conquest. 

If  Miss  MORE  had  cherished  any  hope  that  she 
might  appeal  to  these  persons  for  protection  it  must 
soon  have  been  dispelled. 

Once  only  she  turned  her  eyes  upon  them ;  but 
the  bold,  licentious  looks  they  cast  upon  her,  and 
the  significant  glances  they  exchanged  with  each 
other  and  the  colonel,  made  her  quickly  cast  them 
down. 

The  gentlemen  conversed  some  time  apart,  but  in 
so  low  a  tone  that  she  heard  nothing  except  the 
following  words,  which  caused  her  cheeks  to  crimson 
with  the  blushes  of  virtuous  indignation  : 

"I  say,  HENRY,"  said  CHARLES  BENTON,  "is  she 
not  a  most  splendid  creature  ?  Isn't  the  colonel  a 
lucky  dog?" 

6 


122  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

"  By  Heaven !  your  are  right  CHARLEY,"  replied 
LORILLARD  ;  "  she  is  a  conquest  worthy  of  a  king." 

The  pure-minded  maiden  felt  that  she  should 
suffocate  in  that  pestiferous  atmosphere,  and  was  on 
the  point  of  rising  to  escape  to  her  own  room,  when 
the  door-bell  rang,  and  in  a  few  seconds  a  servant 
presented  himself,  and  announced  that  two  gentle 
men  desired  to  see  Mr.  BORLAND  ;  at  the  same  time 
placing  in  that  gentleman's  hand  two  cards.  Survey 
ing  the  cards  a  moment,  he  exclaimed  : 

"  As  I  live,  two  of  my  best  friends  and  customers, 
from  Virginia ;  capital  fellows !  Shall  I  receive  them 
here?  They  will  be  an  excellent  addition  to  our 
company  ?  " 

Now,  the  colonel,  for  certain  reasons,  had  no  desire 
for  any  more  visitors  that  evening,  and  especially 
strangers ;  yet,  as  he  could  make  no  reasonable 
objection,  he  signified  his  willingness  to  receive 
them.  Accordingly,  they  were  ushered  in  by  the 
servant.  After  exchanging  salutations  with  them, 
Mr.  BORLAND  said : 

"Allow  me,  gentlemen,  to  present  to  you  my 
friends,  General  CLARK  and  Major  HENRY,  of 
Virginia." 

The  party  received  the  new-comers  with  courtesy. 

"  You  must  excuse  us,  gentlemen,"  said  General 
CLARK,  "  for  breaking  in  upon  your  social  circle  so 
unceremoniously;  but  arriving  in  New  York  this 
evening,  and  obliged  to  depart  in  the  morning)  and 
desiring  to  spend  a  few  minutes  with  our  friend 


WHAT  THE   SIGNET  EFFECTED.  123 

BORLAND,  we  sought  him  at  his  hotel,  and  were 
told  that  he  was  spending  the  evening  here  ;  so  we 
ventured  to  intrude." 

"  Oh !  call  it  no  intrusion,  gentlemen ;  the  friends 
of  FRANK  BORLAND  shall  be  ever  welcome  here," 
quickly  replied  Colonel  SCRANTON,  with  exquisite 
politeness ;  and  he  rang  for  a  servant,  and  ordered 
wine  to  be  brought. 

The  eldest  of  the  Virginians,  General  CLARK,  was 
about  fifty  years  of  age — a  finely-formed  man,  with 
a  countenance  somewhat  grave,  but  expressive  of  a 
most  genial  nature.  The  other  was  not  more  than 
forty,  and  everything  about  him  indicated  a  gentle 
man  of  high  cultivation  and  of  the  most  honorable 
sentiments.  Their  acquaintance  with  BORLAND  was 
of  a  business  character,  and  it  is  not  to  be  supposed 
that  they  knew  anything  of  his  private  habits. 

The  wine  passed  freely  around,  and  the  colonel 
entertained  his  new  guests  in  the  most  agreeable 
manner. 

"  By-the-by,  colonel,  you  have  not  introduced  your 
beautiful  ward  to  my  friends,"  said  Mr.  BORLAND, 
with  a  sly  glance  at  that  gentleman. 

"True,  I  forgot,"  said  the  colonel;  and,  rising,  he 
led  the  two  strangers  to  the  table  where  MARY  was 
seated,  looking  abstractedly  at  her  embroidery. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  colonel,  "permit  me  to 
introduce  to  you  my  ward,  Miss  MORE." 

She  looked  up  as  the  gentlemen  saluted  her,  and 
cast  a  scrutinizing  glance  over  their  persons.  That 


124  SIGNET  OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

glance  seemed  to  work  a  sudden  -transformation 
in  her  appearance.  The  expression  of  dark  despair 
disappeared  from  her  face,  and  it  became  radiant 
with  the  light  of  hope.  Her  looks  were  riveted  on 
the  two  gentlemen ;  but  she  did  not  speak.  They, 
in  their  turn,  gazed  in  wonder  at  her  strange 
demeanor.  She  pressed  her  hand  upon  her  heart — 
did  her  eyes  deceive  her? — could  she  believe  her 
senses?  No,  there  was  no  deception.  Have  cour 
age,  oh !  child  of  many  sorrows ;  your  deliverance 
is  nigh ! 

Yes,  her  straining  eyes  saw,  unmistakably,  the 
sure  signs  of  safety.  Suspended  from  the  watch- 
guard  of  the  younger  stranger  she  beheld  the  cross 
of  jet,  with  its  legend  of  hope,  "  IN  HOC  SIGNO  VINCES," 
precisely  like  the  one  worn  by  the  mysterious  gentle 
man  in  black,  who  had  saved  her  from  her  former 
peril ;  while  the  elder  stranger  wore  a  golden  key, 
on  which  she  saw  engraved  the  same  cabalistic 
figures  as  those  drawn  on  the  packet  confided  to  her 
keeping  by  her  mother.  The  reaction  in  her  feelings 
was  so  strong  that  for  some  minutes  she  could  not 
speak.  Colonel  SCR  ANTON  believed  that  she  had 
really  gone  mad ;  while  the  two  gentlemen  looked  at 
her  with  a  puzzled  air. 

At  length,  following  an  irresistible  impulse,  she 
darted  to  the  side  of  General  CLARK,  the  elder  of  the 
two,  and  clinging  closely  to  him,  at  the  same  time 
pointing  to  the  two  mystic  emblems,  exclaimed  : 

"By  this  sign  and  that  I  implore  your  protection. 


WHAT   THE   SIGNET   EFFECTED.  125 

Oh,  save  me  from  that  wicked  man !  " — designating, 
with  gesture  of  disdain,  Colonel  SCRANTON — "oh! 
release  me  from  this  hateful  prison  ! " 

The  general  placed  his  arm  around  the  fair  girl, 
and  looked  down  kindly  into  her  face.  The  scene 
was  so  strange  and  sudden  that  neither  gentleman 
could  well  comprehend  it. 

The  colonel  was  for  a  moment  disconcerted ;  but 
the  dark  frown  which  shaded  his  face  for  an  instant 
disappeared,  and,  in  the  coolest  and  blandest  man 
ner,  he  remarked : 

"Do  not  be  alarmed,  gentlemen;  my  ward  is 
subject  to  these  fits  of  insanity;  during  which  she 
fancies  herself  the  victim  of  some  wicked  conspiracy ; 
it  will  soon  pass  off.  I  will  conduct  her  to  her 
chamber." 

"  Oh !  do  not  let  him  touch  me ! "  she  cried,  in 
terror ;  "  he  speaks  falsely ;  by  a  vile  treachery  he 
got  me  into  his  power,  and  seeks  to  destroy  me. 
Oh,  save  me  !  "  And  she  clung  closer  to  the  arm  of 
the  general. 

That  gentleman  was  much  perplexed.  The  wild 
looks  of  the  frightened  girl,  and  the  strange  manner 
he  had  noticed  from  the  first,  certainly  seemed  to 
confirm  the  statement  of  the  colonel  in  regard  to  the 
state  of  her  mind ;  and  he  was  about  to  pass  her 
over  to  him,  when  his  attention  was  arrested  by 
something  which  the  poor  child  hastily  thrust  into 
his  hand. 

"Good   heavens!"  he  exclaimed^  as  his  eyes  fell 


126  SIGNET  OP  KING  SOLOMON. 

upon  the  object;  " what  new  mystery  is  this?"  At 
the  same  time  he  drew  the  trembling  girl  closer  to 
him. 

Looking  upon  the  packet,  he  read  : 

"To  him  who  can  read  the  cabalistic  letters" 

He  instantly  broke  the  seals,  and  found  a  parch 
ment,  neatly  and  compactly  folded.  It  was  the 
Diploma  of  a  Royal  Arch  Mason.  Folded  within 
this  he  found  the  "Signet  of  King  Solomon;" — a 


golden  key-stone,  inscribed  with  the  symbol  of 
Eternity,  and  the  mystic  letters — the  ever-enduring 
record  of  an  ancient  and  sacred  friendship.  It  bore 
also  the  secret  device  and  initials  of  Captain  JAMES 
MOKE. 

The  packet  contained   also    a    jewel    or  medal, 


WHAT   THE   SIGNET   EFFECTED.  127 

in  the  form  of  a  double  triangle,  inwrought  in  gold, 
and  richly  set  with  precious  stones,  bearing  this 
inscription : 

"TO  JAMES  MOKE, 

Pas'tev  awl  |lop*  gutft  Pww ; 

KNIGHT  OF  THE  TEMPLE,  MALTA,  AND  THE  HOLY  SEPULCHEK 
PRINCE  OF  THE  ROYAL  SECRET 

AND 

Grand  Inspector  General  of  the  33cl  Degree, 

<SPES   MEA  IN   DEO   EST.' 

A  token  of  Fraternal  Regard.1' 

The  general  gazed  on  these  tokens  with  astonish 
ment.  He  had  known  Captain  MORE  well,  and  had 
cherished  a  brother's  love  for  him  to  the  day  of  his 
death. 

"  And  you,  dear  child ! "  he  said,  in  a  low  voice, 
looking  down  into  the  lovely  face  which  was  turned 
anxiously  toward  him — 

"  I  am  his  daughter,"  she  replied,  "  and  I  seek 
your  protection.  Do,  do  take  me  away  from  this 
hated  place,  and  that  terrible  man." 

Colonel  SCRANTON  trembled  with  rage  and  vexa 
tion.  "  She  only  raves,  my  dear  general ;  I  will  con 
duct  her  to  her  room,  and  she  will  quickly  recover." 
And  he  advanced,  and  took  her  by  the  arm. 

"  Oh !  don't  let  him  touch  me,"  almost  shrieked 
the  shuddering  girl. 

"  Be  not  alarmed,  my  child,"  said  the  general, 
soothingly;  "he  shall  molest  you  no  more."  At 


128  SIGNET   OF   KING    SOLOMON. 

the  same  time,  with  a  powerful  movement,  he  shook 
the  colonel  off,  and  sent  him  staggering  for  some 
paces  from  where  he  stood.  "  Touch  not  this  poor 
maiden  again,"  he  said,  in  a  grave  and  severe 
tone ;  "  she  is  now  under  my  protection.  I  do  not 
desire  to  know  the  motives  of  you  conduct,  or  by 
what  deception  you  have  obtained  possession  of 
her  person.  I  shall  immediately  restore  her  to  her 
friends." 

"  No,  by  the  heavens !  you  shall  not,"  roared  the 
colonel,  beside  himself  with  anger ;  and  backed  by 
his  three  friends,  he  rushed  toward  the  general. 

At  this  moment  Major  HENRY  threw  himself  be 
tween  them,  and,  presenting  a  revolver  toward  the 
advancing  party,  exclaimed : 

"  Not  another  step,  at  your  peril ! " 

"  What ! "  howled  the  enraged  colonel,  recoiling 
before  the  deadly  instrument,  "  do  you  brave  and 
insult  me  in  my  own  house  ?  " 

"True,"  rejoined  the  major,  sternly,  "it  is  your 
own  house ;  but  vice  and  crime  have  no  rights  in 
any  place,  wrhile  honor,  virtue,  and  justice  are  privi 
leged  to  enter  everywhere,  and  should  be  welcome 
and  permanent  dwellers  in  every  human  habita 
tion.  Providence  undoubtedly  sent  us  to  prevent 
the  execution  of  your  wicked  designs,  and  rescue 
this  poor  girl." 

The  colonel  and  his  helpers,  now  blinded  by  their 
furious  madness,  and  forgetting  all  considerations  of 
prudence,  were  on  the  point  of  renewing  the  attack 


WHAT    THE    SIGNET    EFFECTED. 


129 


when  a  new  spectacle  arrested  them.  The  door  had 
been  quietly  opened,  and  a  gentleman,  habited  in  a 
suit  entirely  black,  entered  the  room,  conducting  a 


lady,  closely  vailed,  and  a  little  boy.  Taken  alto 
gether,  it  was  a  curious  and  strange  scene.  The 
parties  looked  at  each  other  in  silent  astonishment, 
jis  if  asking  what  all  this  meant.  The  stranger. 


130  SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

casting  his  eyes  around,  started  as  they  rested  on 
the  sweet  girl  who  leaned  trustingly  on  the  bosom 
of  the  general. 

"Indeed!  Miss  MOKE  here!"  he  exclaimed,  ad 
vancing  toward  her,  with  an  inquiring  look. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  general,  with  a  movement 
which  the  stranger  directly  recognized;  "Heaven 
has  enabled  us  to  rescue  this  daughter  of  our 
deceased  companion  from  the  power  of  a  villain." 

At  these  words  the  vailed  lady  visibly  trembled. 
The  stranger,  in  an  instant  comprehended  all.  Miss 
MORE,  at  this  moment,  recognized  him  as  her  myste 
rious  benefactor,  and,  with  a  cry  of  joy,  she  ran  to 
his  side,  and,  taking  his  hand,  said: 

"  Oh  !  sir,  your  words  were,  indeed,  prophetic !  I 
have  fallen  into  snares,  and  suffered  much ;  but 
Heaven  has  preserved  me." 

"  The  world  is  full  of  snares,  injustice,  and  wrong, 
my  poor  child,"  he  rejoined ;  "  and  we  constantly 
need  the  arm  of  Heaven  to  protect,  and  its  wisdom 
to  guide  us.  But  Colonel  SCRANTON  has  other 
crimes,  beside  those  committed  against  you,  to  atone 
for,"  he  proceeded ;  "  and  this  cruelly-abused  lady 
appears  here,  to-night,  to  demand  of  him  a  repara 
tion  of  her  wrongs." 

The  lady  removed  her  vail,  and  disclosed  a  head 
and  face  lovely  as  a  vision  of  Paradise.  She  glanced 
around  the  room,  and  fixed  her  eyes,  at  last,  on  the 
colonel.  He  and  his  companions  seemed  transfixed 
with  amazement. 


WHAT  THE   SIGNET  EFFECTED.  131 

"My  wife! "he  gasped,  and  staggered  backward 
into  a  chair. 

The  Virginian  gentlemen,  feeling  that  their  work 
was  accomplished,  and  not  desiring  to  intrude  on 
the  privacy  of  a  domestic  scene,  withdrew,  taking 
with  them  the  grateful  girl  they  had  released  from 
captivity,  whom  they  directly  conveyed  to  her  friends 
at  the  seminary. 

The  three  roues,  appalled  by  the  beautiful  appari 
tion  before  them,  and  now,  since  reflection  had 
returned,  thoroughly  ashamed  of  the  part  they  had 
been  acting  in  the  earlier  portion  of  the  evening, 
sneaked  away,  and  silently  left  the  house. 

The  colonel  sat  uneasily  on  his  chair,  and  the 
working  of  his  features  bore  striking  witness  to  the 
violence  of  his  emotions ;  while  his  wife,  overcome 
by  her  agitations,  sank  down  upon  a  sofa  by  the  side 
of*  her  boy,  and  sobbed  convulsively. 

At  length,  the  stranger,  approaching  Colonel 
SCRANTON,  addressed  him : 

"  Your  estimable,  but  ill-treated  wife,  saved  from 
want  and  misery,  in  a  distant  city,  by  the  charity  of 
strangers,  has  come  to  claim  her  own,  and  ask  some 
reparation  for  her  great  wrongs." 

"  Oh !  heaven,  what  a  brute  I  have  been,"  groaned 
the  colonel,  "  to  sin  against  so  much  love,  purity, 
and  goodness !  My  crimes  are  beyond  all  repara 
tion.  Heaven  may  pardon  me,  but  I  cannot  forgive 
myself.  Oh,  my  loving,  patient,  and  much-injured 
wife  !  I  dare  not  ask  you  to  forgive  me  ;  and  yet" — 


132  SIG-XET   OF   KING    SOLOMON. 

he  continued,  impetuously — "  although  I  cannot  say 
a  single  word  to  extenuate  my  guilt,  or  relieve  its 
terrible  blackness,  I  can  call  GOD  to  witness  that, 
until  the  fatal  hour  when  Miss  MILLWOOD,  that  dark 
spirit  of  evil,  entered  my  house-,  I  never  had  a 
thought  that  was  not  wholly  devoted  to  you,  whom  I 
loved  to  adoration.  And  even  when  she  had  bound 
me  fast  in  her  voluptuous  chains,  and  held  me  in 
absolute  thraldom,  my  heart  still  clung  to  my  wife. 
And  when  you  so  mysteriously  disappeared,  and,  all 
my  efforts  to  trace  you  proving  fruitless,  I  gave  you 
up  as  dead,  my  agony  and  remorse  were  unbounded  ; 
for  days  I  shut  myself  up,  and  would  see  no  one. 
But  at  length  the  sense  of  utter  desolation  which 
oppressed  me  became  so  intolerable  that  I  rushed 
madly  into  the  world,  and,  plunging  into  the  fiery 
whirlpool  of  guilty  excitements,  sought  thus  to 
drown  all  memory  of  the  past.  And  what  a  life  has 
mine  been  since !  Too  vile  to  stand  before  so  much 
purity,  I  relieve  you  of  my  presence.  All  that  I 
have  is  yours — my  entire  fortune.  I  go  forth  an 
outcast,  to  do  penance  for  my  sins ;  but  I  will  never 
cease  to  pray  for  your  happiness." 

He  took  his  beautiful  boy  in  his  arms,  and  pressed 
him  for  a  moment  to  his  heart,  and  then,  casting  a 
look  of  remorse  and  tenderness  upon  his  sorrow- 
stricken  wife,  whom  he  felt  himself  too  guilty  to 
embrace,  he  was  rushing  toward  the  door,  when  his 
wife  intercepted  him. 

"  Oh,  my  husband !  my  husband ! "  she  cried,  "  you 


WHAT   THE   SIGNET   EFFECTED.  138 

have  sinned,  and  I  have  suffered ;  but  I  forgive  you 
all!"  And  she  threw  herself,  weeping,  upon  his 
neck. 

"My  GOD!  my  GOD!"  exclaimed  the  repentant 
husband;  "I  am  unworthy  this  forgiveness — un 
worthy  to  have  such  an  angel  for  a  wife.  But  I  am 
changed.  The  moment  you  drew  aside  your  vail, 
and  I  saw  your  beautiful  face  turned  toward  me,  1 
felt  the  spirits  of  impurity  fleeing  from  my  heart, 
which  they  had  possessed  so  long,  and  an  influence 
like  an  angel's  presence  stealing  in  to  occupy  their 
place."  • 

Oh !  the  regenerating  power  of  woman's  love ! 
Who  can  worthily  describe  the  depth  of  her  tender 
ness,  or  the  strength  of  her  affection,  or  the  bound 
lessness  of  her  forgiving  charity ! 

The  stranger's  sad  face  wras  liglited  up  with  a 
smile  of  satisfaction,  as  lie  looked  upon  this  scene, 
and,  after  some  kind  words  of  advice  to  the  recon 
ciled  couple,  he  departed,  repeating  to  himself  the 
beautiful  lines  of  GOETHE,  that  great  revelator  of  the 
mysteries  of  the  human  heart : 

'  Here  eyes  do  regard  you 
In  eternity's  stillness; 
Here  is  all  fullness, 
Ye  brave,  to  reward  you; 
Work,  and  despair  not.' 

"Although,"  he  continued,  "hatred,  lust,  and  crime 
march  over  the  world  to  degrade,  divide,  and 
destroy,  charity  and  love  follow  swiftly  on  their 


134  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

track,  to  unite,  to  heal,  and  to  restore.  Yes,  through 
love,  patience,  and  perseverance,  every  obstacle 
shall  give  way,  all  vice  shall  be  subdued,  and  the 
human  race  redeemed.  Thus  LABOK,  the  great  primal 
curse,  becomes  a  sublime  benediction !  Through  it, 
the  unity  of  humanity  is  vindicated,  and  man  re 
installed  in  his  ancient  rights.  By  it,  the  mighty 
stream  of  progress  is  made  to  sweep  onward  from 
age  to  age,  bearing  all  nearer  and  nearer  the  throne 
of  the  great  Father.  Through  thy  ministry,  oh! 
labor  divine — once  a  curse,  but  now  a  blessing ! — 
shall  the  thundeT-laden  clouds  which  gloom  over 
creation's  face,  pouring  their  torrents  of  vice  and 
misery  on  a  groaning  world,  be  rolled  away,  and  the 
heavens,  radiant  with  everlasting  sunshine,  shall 
bend  down  to  embrace  the  earth,  and.  lift  up  man 
to  GOD!" 


A  HUSBAJSTD  SOUGKHT. 


'  Thou  lov'st  another,  then  ? — but  what  to  me 
Is  this? — 'tis  nothing— nothing  e'er  can  be: 
But,  yet,  thou  lov'st— and— oh !  I  envy  those 
Whose  hearts  011  hearts  as  faithful  can  repose: 
Who  never  feel  the  void— the  wandering  thought, 
That  sighs  o'er  visions  such  as  mine  hath  wrought," 

BYRON. 


CHAPTEE  VII. 


the  departure  of  Miss  MORE, 
MAY  MILLWOOD  prepared  all  her  batte 
ries  for  an  attack,  which  she  doubted 
not  would  prove  successful,  on  the 
heart  of  EDWIN  MOKLBY.  She  knew  that  she 
would  have  formidable  difficulties  to  sur 
mount,  and  that  her  object  could  be  gained 
only  through  a  long  series  of  deceptions, 
stratagems,  and  perhaps  crimes.  But  these  did  not 
discourage  her.  She  had  faith  in  the  resources  of 
her  strong  will,  and,  like"  an  astute  general  as  she 
was,  sat  down  and  calmly  considered  and  laid  out 
her  plans. 

She  was  well  aware  that  MORLET'S  heart  was 
already  engaged  ;  that  he  loved  Miss  MORE  with  a 
deep  and  earnest  affection,  and  had  been  some 
months  her  betrothed  husband  ;  and  that  he  Avould 
deem  it  dishonorable  in  the  highest  degree  to  violate 
any  of  his  engagements.  She  was  equally  well  aware 
that  his  love  was  fully  responded  to  by  that  beauti 
ful  girl,  whose  matchless  loveliness,  purity  of  soul, 
and  elevated  character,  could  not  fail  to  exercise  a 


138  SIGNET  OF  KING  SOLOMON. 

powerful  influence  over  him,  which  it  would  be  diffi 
cult  to  overcome. 

Besides,  she  was  older  than  MORLEY,  by  two  or 
three  years ;  and,  although  pretty  and  fascinating, 
had  nothing  of  the  fresh  and  rosy  beauty  of  Miss 
MORE.  But,  then,  MORLEY  did  not  know  her  age, 
and  art  could  easily  repair  or  conceal  the  damaging 
effects  of  years,  and  of  the  life  of  passion  sli£  had 
led.  To  this  end,  she  had  her  long  auburn  tresses 
cut  off,  and  dressed  herself  in  such  a  manner  as 
made  her  appear  five  or  six  years  younger  than  she 
really  was.  Indeed,  after  this  transformation,  she 
looked  like  an  artless  girl  of  sixteen  or  seventeen. 

She  constantly  sought  MORLEY'S  society,  and  cir 
cumstances  greatly  favored  her  in  this. 

Her  grandfather — an  aged  and  feeble  gentle 
man — dwelt  some  two  or  three  miles  distant,  at 
Lynnville,  in  the  same  town,  and  near  the  resi 
dence  of  MORLEY'S  parents.  Called  often  to  attend 
on  her  aged  relative,  her  visits  now  became  more 
frequent  than  ever.  Without  appearing  to  seek 
him,  she  contrived  her  plans  so  artfully  that  scarcely 
a  day  passed  but  she  met  him  somewhere,  when  he 
would  accompany  her  in  a  walk,  and  return  with  her 
to  her  grandfather's  house. 

MORLEY  was  pleased,  evidently,  with  her  society. 
The  originality  of  her  ideas,  her  intelligence,  and 
lively  manners,  were  not  wrtihout  a  certain  charm  for 
him,  and  he  innocently  yielded  to  the  attraction 
which  drew  him  to  her  presence. 


MILLWOOD   STRIVING   FOR  A- HUSBAND.  139 

One  evening  he  came  to  inquire  after  the  health 
of  the  old  gentleman,  when  MAY,  who  had  seen 
him  coming  up  the  street,  met  him  at  the  door, 
with  one  of  her  sweetest  smiles,  and  led  him  into 
the  house. 

"How  glad  I  am  that  you  thought  of  calling 
here  to-night,"  she  said,  after  they  were  seated ; 
"  I  was  getting  so  lonely,  I  knew  not  what  to  do 
with  myself.  Grandfather  has  not  been  so  well 
to-day ;  and  grandmother,  worn  out  with  watching, 
has  retired,  and  I  have  taken  her  place.  I  was 
just  thinking,  when  you  came  in,  how  I  could  occupy 
my  thoughts,  and  amuse  myself,  through  my  solitary 
vigil." 

"  I  see,  however,  you  have  the  best  of  company — 
books,"  rejoined  MORLEY  ;  and  he  took  up  a  volume 
that  lay  in  her  lap,  which  she  had  been  reading,  and 
opened  it.  It  was  a  copy  of  SHELLEY'S  poems,  a 
favorite  author  of  her's,  and  the  numerous  notes  that 
covered  the  margins  showed  that  she  had  been  more 
than  a  casual  reader  of  it.  This  MORLEY  observed ; 
but  he  did  not  observe  that  nearly  all  the  notes  of 
approval  referred  to  the  most  immoral  portions  of 
the  work. 

Miss  MILLWOOD  was  a  good  reader ;  and,  selecting 
such  passages  as  she  thought  would  best  suit  her 
present  purposes,  and,  among  others,  one  entitled 
"  The  Philosophy  of  Love"  she  read  them  with  such 
effect  that  when  she  came  to  the  closing  lines  of  the 
latter  poem, 


140  SIGNET   OF   KING    SOLOMON. 

' '  The  clouds  of  heaven  mix  together, 
With  a  sweet  emotion — 

The  .sunbeams  kiss  the  earth; 
The  moonbeams  kiss  the  sea; 
But.  what  are  all  these  kisses  worth, 
If  thou  kiss  not  me  ?  " 

MOIILEY  felt  a  strange,  wild  thrill  of  pleasure  shoot 
through  all  his  veins.  He  gazed  on  the  dangerous 
syren  with  rapturous  admiration.  The  artful  girl 
noted,  with  a  smile  of  triumph,  the  point  she  had 
gained,  and  determined  still  further  to  strengthen 
herself  in  the  position  she  had  acquired  in  his  regard. 
She  possessed,  herself,  conside'rable  poetic  gifts,  and, 
taking  from  a  table  some  recent  numbers  of  the 
Oceanvitte  Tdegrapli,  pointed  out  to  him  several 
poems  of  her  own,  which,  under  the  nom  deplume 
of  "  LETTIE  LELAND,"  she  had  contributed  to  the 
columns  of  that  journal.  As  she  recited  some  of 
these  pieces  from  memory,  he  listened  with  increas 
ing  interest.  Her  soft  tones,  tremulous  with  emo 
tion,  her  eyes  lighted  up  with  enthusiasm,  and  her 
face  glowing  with  passion,  all  united  to  intoxicate 
his  senses,  and  awaken  a  wild  tumult  in  his  heart ; 
and  when,  at  a  late  hour,  he  bade  her  good  night, 
and  departed,  he  went  away,  thinking  that,  after 
MARY  MORE,  Miss  MILLWOOD  was  the  most  bewitching 
and  lovely  maiden  he  had  ever  beheld. 

MAY  wras  highly  delighted  with  her  progress  thus 
far ;  but   still   she  knew  that   MORLEY'S   heart  was 


MILLWOOD    STRIVING   FOR   A   HUSBAND.  141 

loyal,  and  felt  that,  while  it  would  be  easy  enough  to 
ensnare  his  senses  and  win  his  admiration,  it  would 
be  more  difficult  to  gain  his  love.  Some  plan  must 
be  devised  to  divide  the  lovers,  by  sowing  the  seeds 
of  suspicion  and  distrust  in  their  hearts,  or  she  would 
surely  lose  the  game. 

For  .some  time  after  MORLEY'S  departure  she  re 
mained  in  deep  thought,  as  if  revolving  some 
"weighty  problem  in  her  mind.  At  length  the  air 
of  perplexity  vanished  from  her  face,  and  she  smiled 
as  if  she  had  found  a  satisfactory  solution  of  the 
questions  which  she  had  been  meditating.  Beating 
the  floor  with  her  small,  pretty  foot,  she  said  to 
herself : 

"  Yes,  that  will  do.  Miss  MORE  must  be  made  to 
believe  that  MORLEY  has  deserted  her ;  and  he  must 
be  convinced  that  she,  having  found  another  lover, 
has  forgotten  him.  Yes,  I  shall  have  a  husband," 
she  continued;  "and  EDWIN  MORLEY  shall  be  the 
man ! " 

But  let  it  not  be  supposed  that  she  looked  forward 
to  such  a  union  with  that  pure  pleasure  which  a 
noble  and  virtuous  soul  feels  who  believes  marriage 
to  be  the  close  blending  together  of  two  hearts  in 
holiest  and  sweetest  bonds  of  affection — bonds  per 
petual  for  time  and  eternity.  Of  love  and  marriage, 
viewed  in  this  light,  she  had,  absolutely,  no  concep 
tion.  Indeed,  marriage,  with  her,  was  simply  a  con 
venience—a  necessary  evil — and  her  wayward  and 
tickle  nature  recoiled  from  the  restraints  even  of 


142  SIGNET  OF  KING  SOLOMON. 

such  an  alliance.  But,  then,  she  shrank  with  greater 
dread  from  the  possibility  of  being  called  an  "  old 
maid." 

But  her  designs  on  Mo  RLE Y  were  prompted  by 
another  motive.  She  hated  MARY  MORE.  The  inno 
cence  and  purity  of  that  young  lady  were  a  standing 
reproach  to  herself ;  while  she  was  also  envious  of 
her  rare  beauty  and  spotless  reputation.  It  is  natural 
for  evil  natures  to  dislike  that  which  is  good,  and  to 
seek  the  injury  of  those  better  than  themselves.  Thus, 
it  was  not  merely  to  gain  a  husband,  and  a  settlement 
in  life,  that  led  her  to  desire  to  captivate  MORLEY, 
but  to  triumph  over  &  rival  whom  she  hated,  and 
would  be  only  too  happy  to  destroy. 

She  had,  until  recently,  been  an  intimate  acquaint 
ance  of  Miss  MORE,  and  none  were  louder  in  profes 
sions  of  friendly  interest  than  she ;  but  at  the  same 
time  her  heart  burned  with  jealousy,  envy,  and  the 
most  inveterate  malice.  She  still  continued  to  call  on 
Mrs.  MORE,  and  inquire  kindly  of  MARY  ;  but  it  was 
only  to  acquire  information  that  she  might,  perhaps, 
employ  in  furthering  her  own  schemes. 

A  few  days  after  the  interview  with  MORLEY  which 
we  have  just  described,  Miss  MILLWOOD  returned  to 
Oceanville,  and  had  a  conference  with  ORALL. 

"  MATTHEW,"  she  said,  "  you  hate  MARY  MORE,  and 
desire  to  punish  her  for  what  you  conceive  to  be  an 
insult?" 

"Exactly  so,"  replied  that  worthy,  affectionately 
stroking  his  moustache. 


MILLWOOD    STRIVING    FOlt   A    HUSBAND.  143 

"  And  I,"  she  continued,  "  must  win  the  love  of 
EDWIN  MORLEY/' 

"  Well ! "  ejaculated  ORALL. 

"Your  last  scheme — the  snare  you  and  Colonel 
SCRANTON  devised — did  not  succeed,  I  hear." 

"No,  by  all  the  demons!"  he  exclaimed;  "she 
escaped  in  the  most  mysterious  manner." 

"  So  I  have  heard ;  but  we  must  not  let  the  matter 
drop  ;  we  must  separate  the  lovers." 

"Well— But  how?" 

"  Listen.  You  call  frequently  at  the  post-office  iu 
Lynnville,  and  sometimes  assist  in  making  up  the 
mails,  do  you  not?  " 

"True." 

"  And  you  know  the  handwriting  of  both  MORLEY 
and  Miss  MORE  ?  " 

"I  do." 

"  The  way  is  easy,  then :  you  must  abstract  and 
destroy  all  letters  that  pass  between  them." 

"  The  devil !  But  that  would  be  dangerous,"  replied 
ORALL. 

*  "  Dangerous ! "  cried  MAY,  with  a  sneer ;  "  who 
ever  stopped  to  calculate  the  danger,  when  seeking 
revenge ! " 

"  Or  a  husband  ?  "  interrupted  ORALL,  with  a  mock 
ing  laugh.  "  Nevertheless,  the  plan  is  a  good  one, 
and  it  shall  be  executed." 

•£  •&  W  Vf  7T  * 

Meanwhile,  affairs  in  Oceanville  proceeded  in  their 
usual  quiet  manner. 


144  SIGNET    OF   KING    SOLOMON.    " 

Mrs.  MORE  had  received  a  letter  from  MARY,  giving 
a  detailed  account  of  lier  dangerous  adventure  in 
New  York,  and  the  wonderful  manner  in  which  she 
escaped  from  her  perilous  condition,  through  the 
instrumentality  of  the  "  Signet  of  King  Solomon," — 
that  mysterious  talisman  which  her  father  had  sent 
her,  as  it  were,  from  his  grave. 

Mrs.  MOKE  pondered  deeply  over  the  strange 
abduction  of  her  daughter ;  but  the  more  she  tried 
to  probe  the  mystery  the  more  inexplicable  it  became. 
It  was  evident  that  her  daughter  had  secret  foes 
somewhere,  who  were  persistently  at  work  to  compass 
her  destruction.  But  why  should  that  sweet  child, 
whose  whole  life  had  been  so  quiet  and  harmless, 
whose  manner  was  so  meek,  and  modest,  and  retiring, 
have  enemies  ?  Her  maternal  heart  was  still  agitated 
by  sad  forebodings  of  new  dangers  which  might 
befall  her  beloved  child ;  and  her  only  comfort  was, 
that  if  she  were  followed  by  invisible  foes,  who  were 
working  to  her  harm,  she  was  also  surrounded  with 
invisible  friends,  and  possessed  the  means  of  calling 
them  to  her  aid.  Wishing  to  urge  upon  her  the 
necessity  of  being  on  her  guard  against  new  dan 
gers,  she  wrote  her  as  follows  : 

"OCEANVILLE,  July  12,   185-. 
"MY  BELOVED  CHILD: 

"Your  letter,  acquainting  me  with  the  dangers  you  encountered 
on  arriving  in  New  York,  is  before  me.  Let  us  thank  GOD  for  your 
happy  escape,  and  pray  that  heaven  will  bless  those  who  came  so 
providentially  to  your  rescue.  Oh !  be  careful  and  watchful.  It 
is  an  ungracious  task,  and  seems  almost  monstrous  to  counsel  you 


MILLWOOD    STRIVING   FOR   A   HUSBAND.  145 

to  be  suspicious  and  distrustful  of  all  who  approach,  you;  but, 
situated  as  you  are,  surrounded  with  you  know  not  what  unknown 
enemies,  it  becomes  necessary. 

' '  My  anxious  heart  still  throbs  its  painful  prophecy  of  new  dan 
gers,  which  may  strike  you  at  any  moment;  but  I  am  consoled  by 
the  thought  that  your  father's  spirit  is  watching  over,  and  invisible 
arms  are  stretched  forth  to  protect  you. 

"EMMA  sends  you  a  thousand  kisses  and  a  world  of  love;  and 
little  AGGIE  desires  me  to  ask  if  you  daily  kiss  the  flowers  she  named 
for  those  who  love  you  so  well. 

"With  much  love,  and  many  prayers  for  your  safety  and  happi 
ness,  I  remain  ever  your  affectionate  mother, 

ANNA  MOKE. 

"P.S. — EDWIN  has  called  several  times  to  inquire  after  you. 
He  seems  to  suffer  more  from  your  absence  than  the  rest  of  us. 
Noble  young  man!  A.  M." 


PERPLEXED  LOVERS. 


« If,  like  a  snake,  she  steals  within  your  walls, 
Till  the  black  slime  betray  her  as  she  crawls; 
If,  like  a  viper,  to  the  heart  she  wind, 
And  leave  the  venom  there  she  did  not  find, 
What  marvel  that  this  hag  of  hfrt*ed  works 
Eternal  evil,  latent  as; 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

ISS  MOKE  adapted  herself  easily 
to  her  new  position  in  New  York, 
and,  devoting  herself  assiduously  to 
her  duties,  soon  gained  the  unre 
served  esteem  of  her  employers  and 
fellow-teachers,  and  the  warmest  affections  of 
her  pupils.  With  her  rare  beauty,  and  rich 
qualities  of  mind  and  heart,  it  could  scarcely 
be  otherwise.  During  the  first  three  or  four  weeks, 
she  was  the  picture  of  happiness  and  contentment. 
If  she  regretted  the  society  of  the  dear  ones  at  home, 
she  was  compensated  by  the  thought  that  she  was 
laboring  for  them,  and  anticipated  the  pleasure  she 
would  feel  when  she  should  transmit  to  her  mother 
her  first  quarter's  salary.  It  was  a  charming  picture 
that  rose  before  her  delighted  imagination :  Little 
AGGIE,  fitted  with  pretty  new  frocks ;  EMMA,  with  a 
new  hat  and  cloak ;  and  her  sweet,  patient,  loving 
mother  with  many  little  comforts  hitherto  denied  her ; 
and  all  through  her  labor — her  own  earnings !  It 
was  a  delicious  thought  to  the  brave,  noble  girl. 
Dear  child !  she  never  thought  of  herself. 


150  SIGNET  OF  KING  SOLOMON. 

After  a  few  weeks,  however,  she  became  anxious  and 
nervous.  It  was  plain  that  some  secret  grief  preyed 
upon  her  heart.  When  not  engaged  with  her  classes, 
she  would  retire  to  her  room,  and  sit  for  hours  alone. 
One  day,  after  dragging  through  the  weary  routine  of 
her  labors,  she  hastened  to  her  chamber,  and,  throw 
ing  herself,  exhausted,  into  a  chair,  exclaimed : 

"  Oh !  I  can  bear  this  suspense  no  longer.  It  is 
three  weeks  since  I  received  a  line  from  him,  while  I 
have  written  him  four  times.  Oh,  EDWIN!  EDWIN! 
can  it  be  that  you  have  forgotten  me  so  soon ! "  And 
the  poor  girl  burst  into  tears. 

MOKLEY  had  early  obtained  possession  of  her  deep 
est  and  purest  affections ;  and,  after  their  engagement, 
looking  upon  him  as  her  future  husband,  she  gave  her 
virgin  heart,  with  all  its  rich  treasures  of  love,  without 
reserve,  into  his  keeping.  And  now,  was  that  poor 
heart  to  be  cast  out,  and  thrust  away,  and  trampled 
upon  by  him  whom  she  had  loved  with  such  entire  de 
votion,  as  a  thing  of  no  worth  ?  The  thought  was  mad 
ness.  She  could  not  think  him  so  base  ;  and  yet,  how 
could  she  explain  his  conduct  ?  Such  heartless  neglect 
she  could  not  reconcile  with  his  well-known  character 
— so  noble,  so  truthful,  so  honorable,  and  gentle.  But, 
then,  there  was  the  palpable  fact — standing  out  dark 
and  grim — he  took  no  notice  of  her  letters.  And, 
besides,  one  of  the  last  communications  of  her 
mother  mentioned  that  his  calls  at  her  house  were 
less  frequent,  and  that  he  was  seen  often  with  Miss 
MILLWOOD. 


PERPLEXED   LOVERS.  151 

"  Oh,  it  must  be  so  ! "  she  cried,  in  a  voice  of  agony ; 
"  lie  is  false  !  false !  false  !  Oh,  cruel,  cruel  EDWIN  ! 
you  have  broken  my  heart." 

She  no  longer  doubted  his  treachery.  Alas !  it  was 
a  painful  trial  for  the  poor  girl ;  but  she  addressed 
herself  to  her  duties  with  undiminished  alacrity, 
throwing  her  whole  soul  into  her  employment,  as  if 
she  would  thus  drown  all  unhappy  remembrances. 
But  they  would  come,  notwithstanding ;  and  it  was 
plain  enough  that  her  great  sorrow  was  rapidly  con 
suming  the  very  springs  of  life. 

Each  day  the  roses  fell  from  her  cheeks,  and  her 
step  became  less  elastic ;  while  the  unnatural  bril 
liancy  of  her  beautiful  eyes,  a  short,  dry  cough,  and 
constant  pain  in  the  chest,  awakened  the  most  serious 
apprehensions  among  her  friends. 

And  how  was  it  with  MORLEY  ?  He  truly  loved 
MARY  ;  though,  perhaps,  his  love  was  less  intense  than 
hers.  Still,  he  loved  her  with  a  strong,  manly,  trust 
ing  affection.  Great,  therefore,  was  his  perplexity  and 
grief,  when  week  after  week  passed  by,  and  he  received 
no  answers  to  his  letters.  Had  he  been  deceived  in 
her  ?  Had  she  so  soon  forgotten  her  engagement  to 
him,  and  cast  him  off  for  some  wealthier  suitor  ?  When 
he  thought  of  her  truth,  gentleness,  and  virtues,  and 
called  to  mind  all  those  sweet  ways  in  which  a  loving 
and  faithful  woman  manifests  her  deep  and  pure  affec 
tion,  he  found  it  difficult  to  believe  her  false.  And 
yet,  on  the  other  hand,  how  could  he  account  for  her 
silence  ?  She  had  been  deaf  to  his  most  earnest 


152  SIGNET  OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

and  passionate  appeals ;  letter  after  letter  had  been 
posted,  and  the  reply  looked  for  with  the  most  pain 
ful  anxiety ;  but  no  response  ever  came.  The  poor 
youth  was  miserable  beyond  description. 

Thus,  by  a  most  infernal  plot,  these  two  loving 
hearts,  which  beat  so  fondly  and  faithfully  for  each 
other,  were  gradually  estranged.  Believing  each  other 
false,  they  sought  to  find  relief  from  their  bitter  recol 
lections  in  forgetting  that  they  had  ever  loved. 

Ah !  could  they  but  have  known  the  treachery  that 
was  working  their  unhappiuess  ! 

So  the  weeks  swept  along  on  leaden  wings — to  the 
hapless  lovers  weeks  of  direst  misery.  All  communi 
cation  between  them  was  cut  off  as  effectually  as  if  the 
cold,  dark  sea  of  death  already  divided  them.  Oh  ! 
why  cannot  hearts  that  love  speak  to  each  other, 
although  separated  by  thousands  of  miles,  without  the 
intervention  of  written  language,  mails,  or  telegraphs  ? 
How  many  a  scheme  of  treachery  and  mischief  would 
thus  be  foiled  in  its  deadly  purpose !  How  many 
hearts  that  are  now  often  wrecked  and  broken,  thus 
comprehending  each  other,  would  preserve,  in  spite 
of  the  machinations  of  malice,  their  strong  affection 
and  unfaltering  confidence  ? 

Miss  MILLWOOD  was  soon  made  aware,  by  the 
altered  manners  of  MORLEY,  that  the  blow  she  had 
directed  had  fallen  with  sure  effect ;  and  the  joy  of 
her  evil  soul  was  unbounded.  She  had  hurled  down 
and  cast  forth  the  idol  which  had  so  long  been  en- 
throned  in  his  breast ;  he  was  now  desolate ;  she 


PERPLEXED  LOVERS.  153 

could  console  him ;  and,  beneath  the  light  and 
warmth  of  her  smiles,  she  doubted  not  the  flower  of 
love  would  bloom  in  his  heart  anew. 

One  fine  evening  she  met  MORLEY,  as  she  was  walk 
ing  on  the  sea-shore,  and  her  heart  beat  wildly  as  she 
thought  that  the  prize,  for  which  she  had  been  play 
ing  so  desperate  a  game,  was  now  almost  within  her 
grasp.  Her  eyes  wore  that  soft,  dreamy,  voluptuous 
look  usually  seen  in  persons  of  her  ardent  tempera 
ment,  and  the  young  man  felt  his  blood  tingle  as 
their  magnetic  gaze  turned  upon  him,  and  she  placed 
her  small  white  hand  in  his. 

"  Mr.  MORLEY,  it  pains  me  to  see  you  looking  so 
poorly;  you  must  be  ill,"  she  said,  in  a  soft  and 
tender  voice,  while  her  beaming  eyes  continued  to 
shoot  their  magnetic  fires  into  his. 

Poor  youth,  he  felt  the  need  of  sympathy  and  con 
solation,  and  he  gazed  upon  the  fair  enchantress  with 
looks  of  admiration  and  gratitude. 

The  spell  of  the  Circe  was  upon  him.  For  a  long 
time  they  walked  the  beach,  in  the  soft  twilight,  en 
gaged  in  earnest  conversation.  MAY  was  eloquent, 
and,  with  poetic  enthusiasm,  spoke  of  love  and  sym 
pathy  as  the  great  needs  of  strong  and  elevated  souls. 
She  said : 

"  Without  them,  life  is  nought ;  the  mightiest  in 
tellect  falters  in  its  sublime  career,  and  the  glittering 
wing  on  which  genius  soars  is  paralyzed.  Without 
them,  all  effort,  all  energy  and  exertion  are  inef 
fectual,  and  fruitless  of  results." 


154  SIGNET  OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

MORLEY  felt,  in  his  soul,  that  all  this  was  true  ;  for, 
since  the  light  of  love  had  been  extinguished  in  his 
breast,  he  had  been  walking  in  darkness,  stumbling 
in  dark  paths,  utterly  incapable  of  addressing  himself 
to  any  occupation ;  and  his  heart  softened  toward 
the  fascinating  being  who  could  thus  interpret  his 
thoughts  and  feelings,  and  who  spoke  to  him  with 
such  earnest  sympathy. 

She  continued  the  conversation  with  passionate 
tenderness ;  her  whole  soul  spoke  in  her  eyes,  face, 
words,  and  seemed  to  tremble  on  her  rosy  lips ;  and 
MAY  MILLWOOD  was  sincere  at  the  time,  and  felt  ah1 
the  passion  she  expressed.  But  her  passion  for 
MORLEY  was  not  that  high  and  holy  sentiment  which 
endures  through  all  changes,  although  it  was,  proba 
bly,  the  highest  form  of  love  that  such  a  sensuous 
nature  as  hers  was  capable  of  feeling.  At  best,  it 
was  only  a  beautiful,  but  fragile  flower,  that  exhales 
its  perfume  in  the  glory  of  the  morning,  and  dies 
when  the  shades  of  evening  fall  upon  it. 

It  was  now  quite  dark,  and  MORLEY  accompanied 
MAY  to  the  house. 

"How  happens  it,  MAY,"  said  MORLEY,  who  had 
taken  a  seat  on  a  sofa,  at  her  side,  "  that  you,  who 
can  picture  with  such  truth  and  eloquence  the  passion 
and  sentiment  of  love,  and  seem  so  capable  of  feeling 
them  in  all  their  power,  are  not  yourself  in  love  ?  Is 
your  heart,  which  can  divine  so  readily  the  expe 
riences  of  other  hearts,  invulnerable  to  all  soft 
emotions  ?  " 


PERPLEXED   LOVERS.  155 

She  cast  on  him  a  look  of  indescribable  tenderness, 
as  she  replied : 

"  Suppose  I  do  feel  all  I  have  attempted  to  de 
scribe,  and  the  man  whom  I  really  love  is  unconscious 
of  or  indifferent  to  the  passion  he  has  inspired?" 

"  Your  supposition,"  he  rejoined,  taking  her  warm, 
velvety  hand  in  his,  "  is  a  pure  impossibility.  There 
is  no  man  living  who  could  be  indifferent  to  the  love 
of  a  being  so  lovely  and  gifted  as  you." 

"  Oh !  do  you  think  so  ?  "  she  hastily  replied ;  "  sup 
pose  you  were  the  man  ?  " 

MORLEY  started.  He  had  been  dazzled — charmed ; 
his  senses  had  been  rapt  in  a  delicious  trance ;  he 
felt  his  soul  going  forth  to  embrace  the  strange  girl ; 
but  he  had  never  questioned  his  heart,  nor  sought  to 
explain  the  nature  of  his  feelings  toward  her.  The 
question,  therefore,  startled  him.  For  a  moment  the 
sweet  face  of  MARY  MORE  flitted  before  him ;  but  it  was 
only  for  a  moment ;  and  he  looked  down  into  the  soft, 
dreamy  eyes  which  were  upturned  toward  him.  He 
leaned  slightly  forward,  as  if  to  embrace  her,  when 
some  sudden  thought  seemed  to  restrain  him. 

But  the  passionate  girl,  yielding  to  her  ardent  im 
pulses,  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  was  press 
ing  her  voluptuous  lips  to  his,  when  she  started  up 
with  a  cry  of  alarm,  and  looked  with  a  bewildered  air 
about  the  room,  as  if  she  expected  to  see  some  person. 
Three  light  knocks  or  taps  were  heard  on  the  wall. 
MORLEY  looked  around,  amazed.  The  sounds  seemed 
to  be  in  the  apartment ;  but  they  might  have  been 


156  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

produced  by  some  one  outside,  throwing  pebbles,  one 
after  another,  against  the  window-blinds.  Come 
whence  they  would,  they  had  a  strange  effect  on  the 
girl.  Ashy  pale,  she  walked  around,  like  one  entranced 
by  a  will  mightier  than  her  own.  At  length  she  darted 
into  the  hall,  and  quickly  opened  the  street-door.  She 
strained  her  eyes  through  the  thick  gloom,  as  if  she 
expected  to  see  some  dreaded  apparition.  She 
looked  in  vain ;  no  object  was  in  sight.  But,  instead, 
a  voice,  which  made  her  very  soul  quake,  came  rush 
ing  through  the  black  night — a  voice,  clear,  solemn, 
and  stern  as  the  voice  of  doom  : 

"  Beiuare,  May  Millwood  !  beivare  !  You  are  again 
on  the  path  of  crime,  whose  end  rests  on  the  abyss  of 
eternal  darkness.  Beivare  !  " 

The  voice  ceased,  and  all  \vas  silent  as  the  grave — 
all,  save  the  loud  beatings  of  her  own  guilty  heart. 

Cooling  her  fevered  brow  for  a  few  secorfds  in  the 
night  air,  she  silently  closed  the  door,  and  returned 
to  the  room.  Recollecting  herself,  and  fearful  that 
MOKLEY  would  think  her  conduct  strange,  she  threw 
herself  into  a  chair,  and,  pressing  her  head  between 
her  hands,  she  exclaimed  : 

"Oh!  this  terrible  head-ache,  which  came  upon 
me  so  suddenly,  has  almost  crazed  me.  I  must  have 
taken  cold  this  evening,  when  standing  on  the  beach, 
in  the  damp  sea  atmosphere." 

MORLEY  soon  after  departed,  musing  on  that  wild 
and  beautiful  being,  and  the  strange  revelation  of 
her  love. 


THE  TEMPTRESS. 


•'Oh!  too  convincing — dangerously  dear— 
In  woman's  eye,  the  unanswerable  tear ! 
That  weapon  of  her  weakness  she  can  wield 
To  save,  subdue — at  once  her  spur  and  shield. 
Avoid  it — Virtue  ebbs  and  Wisdom  errs, 
Too  fondly  gazing  on  that  grief  of  hers ! 
What  "lost  a  world,  and  bade  a  hero  fly? 
The  timid  tear  in  Cleopatra's  eye." 

BYRON. 


CHAPTEK  IX. 

EVEEAL  months  had  now  rolled  away. 
The  glory  of  summer  had  faded,  and 
the  golden  days  of  autumn  had  come, 
trailing  their  gorgeous  drapery  of 
many-colored  leaves  and  rose-tinted  clouds 
over  hill  and  valley,  mountain  and  plain.  Au 
tumn — beautiful,  gorgeous,  shadowy  autumn  ! 
— how  grandly  eloquent  art  thou  in  thy  somber 
magnificence! — and  deep-toned,  mysterious  voices, 
which  rise  and  fall  around  us,  in  softest  cadence,  like 
echoes  from  the  Everlasting  Shore,  bearing  the  soul 
away  from  all  thought  of  self  or  individual  interests, 
to  the  starry  land  of  reverie — that  region  so  melan 
choly,  and  yet  so  sweet ! 

We  believe  it  may  safely  be  said  that  there  is  710 
one  who  is  wholly  insensible  to  the  solemn,  heart- 
awakening  influences  peculiar  to  this  season  of  the 
year.  Its  grand  and  reflective  countenance  has  an 
indefinable  charm  for  every  earnest  and  thoughtful 
soul.  It  arouses  the  torpid  memory,  and  fails  not  to 
bring  up  from  the  tomb  of  the  past  the  events, 
experiences  and  persons  which  have  played  their 
parts  in  the  solemn  history  of  our  ambitions,  and 


160  810 NET   OP   KING   SOLOMON. 

doubts — our  hopes  and  our  griefs.  It  brings  them 
all  forth,  and  the  phantom-procession  moves  on  in 
its  brightness  or  sadness,  with  all  the  distinctness  of 
life,  through  the  chambers  of  the  mind.  As  we  walk 
in  the  dim-lighted  wood,  fragrant  with  the  odors  of 
decaying  leaves,  which  cover  the  paths  we  tread, 
like  a  soft  carpet,  while  their  brothers,  in  red  and 
brown,  fluttering  the  brief  remnant  of  their  life  on 
the  parent  stock,  await  the  blast  that  shall  hurl  them 
also  to  the  earth — we  find  ourselves  deeply  moved, 
and  turn  to  a  retrospection  of  the  days  that  are  gone. 
Again  we  see,  with  a  swelling  heart  and  swimming 
eyes,  the  delusive  hopes  which  once  shone  so  fairly 
upon  us,  but  now  darkened  forever ;  and  hear  again 
the  thrilling  voice  of  a  love  which,  perchance — long, 
long  ago — came  to  visit  our  hearts,  like  the  smile  of 
heaven,  but  of  which  nothing  now  remains  but  its 
sad,  sad  memory. 

EDWIN  MORLEY  must  have  fallen  on  this  train  of 
thought,  and  felt  powerfully  the  influence  we  have 
described,  as  he  walked,  on  one  of  the  finest  after 
noons  that  ever  closed  an  autumnal  day,  in  the  grand 
old  wood  that  skirted  the  town  of  Oceanville.  The 
pensive  expression  of  his  noble  countenance  showed 
that  his  thoughts  were  busy  with  the  past,  while  the 
deep  shade  that  rested  upon  it  bore  witness  to  inward 
unhappiness.  Every  rock  and  tree — every  flower, 
which  still  dared  to  grace  the  hill-side — every  nook 
and  glen — all  reminded  him  of  the  days  of  trust  and 
hope,  and  sweet-blossoming  love ;  and  of  her,  whom 


THE   TEMPTRESS-.  161 

he  now  believed  false,  and  whose  image,  once  so 
deeply  loved,  he  was  striving  to  banish  forever  from 
his  heart. 

Proceeding  along  the  winding  paths,  he  at  length 
gained  the  top  of  a  hill,  and,  after  gazing  around  for 
a  moment  on  the  fair  prospect  which  spread  out 
before  him,  sat  down  upon  a  rock,  and  fell  into  a  fit 
of  meditation. 

Love,  and  especially  its  disappointments,  are  great 
quickeners  of  the  intellect.  "We  do  not  really  live 
until  love  opens  to  us  the  great  portals  of  life,  and 
through  its  power  we  begin  to  reflect  on  its  myste 
rious  questions.  Love  arouses  every  energy,  and 
when  one  loves  happily,  to  him  the  worlds  seem 
to  roll  in  immortal  splendors.  All  things  glow 
with  a  radiance  and  beauty,  more  than  earthly, 
and  overflow  with  songs  of  more  than  human 
melody. 

But  the  heart  that  has  been  disappointed  in  its 
love  dives  still  deeper  in  life's  dread  mysteries ;  it 
becomes  at  once  a  philosopher  and  a  poet. 

Thus  it  was  with  MOKLEY.  After  musing  a  few 
moments,  he  took  from  his  pocket  a  small  portfolio, 
and,  laying  it  upon  his  knees  before  him,  wrote  with 
a  pencil.  Sorrow  had  raised  him  to  the  region  of 
poetry,  and  his  heart  wrailed  out  its  grief  in  song : 

"  AGAIN  I  tread  these  paths,  find  climb  this  hill, 
Where  oyce  I  walked  the  gayest  of  the  gay; 
But  now,  fast-rushing  tears  my  eyes  do  fill, 

And  dismal  night  enshrouds  that  brightsome  day. 


162  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

For  then — oh,  joyful  then! — close  to  my  side 
Did  cling  the  idol  of  my  youthful  heart; 

The  glory  of  my  dreams — my  pi'omised  bride, 
And  of  my  soul  the  complemental  part. 

Ay,  here  she  sat,  upon  this  mossy  stone; 

Her  head  baptized  in  sunset's  golden  ray; 
She  seemed  a  goddess,  on  her  radiant  throne, 

While  I  in  worship  at  her  footstool  lay. 

Yes,  here,  beneath  the  glorious  arch  above, 
We  spoke  the  vows  that  bound  our  hearts  in  one; 

Ye  trees  and  rocks  did  testify  our  love — 
Also  ye  skies,  and  thou  bright  shining  sun. 

But  now — oh,  dreadful  NOW! — alone  I  tread, 
With  faltering  step,  these  sylvan  paths  along; 

My  heart  mourns  o'er  its  summer  visions  fled, 
And  blends  its  plaints  with  Autumn's  wailing  song. " 

« 

Thus  the  young  man  of  twenty-one  recorded  his 
first  great  grief. 

"  Why — oh !  why  is  it,"  he  said  to  •  himself,  as  he 
closed  his  portfolio,  "that  I  cannot  drive  entirely 
from  my  heart  the  image  of  that  false  and  fickle 
girl  ?  She  has  forgotten  me ;  treats  me  with  silent 
scorn  and  contempt ;  and  yet  my  thoughts  turn  con 
stantly  to  her  who  has  so  basely  deceived  me ;  I 
love  her  still."  After  musing  a  little  while,  he  pro 
ceeded  :  "  Love !  no  I  do  not  love  Miss  MORE  now ; 
for  love  dies  when  it  is  responded  to  with  scorn,  or 
when  its  object  is  unworthy.  I  love,  it  is  true ;  but 
it  is  not  Miss  MORE,  either  as  she  was  or  is,  but 
rather  the  image  of  what  I  imagined  her  to  be.  ,  It 


THE   TEMPTRESS.  163 

is  that  which  I  regret  with  so  much  sorrow,  and  my 
utter  desolation  of  soul  is  occasioned  by  the  loss  of 
that:' 

MORLEY'S  philosophy  was  doubtless  correct ;  for  it 
is  not  in  the  power  of  human  nature  to  love  baseness, 
treachery,  or  deceit.  It  may,  indeed,  waste  its  affec 
tions  on  objects  that  are  base  and  deceitful ;  but  it  is 
because  the  fancy  paints  them  otherwise. 

The  young  man's  thought  now  turned  to  Miss  MILL 
WOOD.  He  strove  to  analyze  his  feelings  in  regard  to 
that  young  lady.  He  felt  that  she  had  great  influ 
ence  upon  him,  and  he  was  drawn  to  her,  notwith 
standing  himself.  When  in  her  presence,  and  her 
large  magnetic  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him,  he  was 
spell-bound.  Every  nerve  thrilled  with  a  delicious 
tremor,  and  in  the  charm  which  she  threw  around 
him,  he  lost  the  memory  of  Miss  MORE,  its  pains,  and 
all  the  world  beside.  Did  he  love  her;  or  were  his 
senses  simply  intoxicated  by  her  voluptuous  charms  ? 
He  had  asked  himself  that  question  a  thousand 
times.  "When  with  her,  he  thought  he  did;  yet, 
when  away  from  her,  he  felt  a  coldness  around  his 
heart  which  he  could  not  account  for.  He  was 
alternately  attracted  and  repelled.  There  was  some 
thing  about  that  strangely  fascinating  creature  which 
alarmed  while  it  lured  him.  She  seemed  to  be  a 
mystery  which  he  could  not  fathom.  That  she  loved 
him  with  a  strange,  passionate  energy  he  felt  to  be 
true ;  but  there  was  in  him  a  conscious  shrinking 
from  that  love,  even  when  its  spell  was  the  most 


164  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

powerfully  upon  him.  All  this  can  be  easily  ex 
plained.  She  had  plunged  his  senses  into  a  soft 
inebriation,  but  failed  to  inspire  that  sweet  trust 
and  confidence  which  are  the  necessary  foundation 
of  lo\re. 

There  were  other  things,  too,  which  exercised  his 
conjectures.  There  were  passages  in  Miss  MILL 
WOOD'S  life  that  had  been  kept  closely  vailed.  Was 
she  a  pure,  high-minded,  truthful  girl  ?  The  event 
which  had  so  suddenly  interrupted  their  interview 
some  weeks  before,  and  which  had  agitated  her  so 
fearfully,  was  often  the  subject  of  his  thoughts.  Was 
it  connected  with  some  secret  in  her  history,  which 
she  did  not  desire  to  have  revealed  ? 

Besides,  two  years  she  had  spent  away  from  home, 
part  of  the  time  at  school,  and  the  residue  on  the 
pretence  of  literary  employment  in  Boston  and  New 
York.  Scandal  had  been  busy  with  her  alleged  pro 
ceedings  during  this  period.  She  also  was  in  the 
constant  receipt  of  letters  of  a  mysterious  charac 
ter — some  even  had  been  forwarded  to  her  through 
him. 

Such  questionings  and  circumstances  occupied  his 
mind  a  long  time  that  afternoon.  But  his  specula 
tions  failed  to  throw  a  solitary  ray  of  light  on  that 
subject.  It  was  dark  as  ever.  There  she  stood  in 
his  mind — an  inexplicable  mystery — beautiful,  gleam 
ing  as  a  rainbow,  and  rosy  as  the  face  of  early  sum 
mer  ;  but  he  could  not  answer  to  himself  whether 
she  were  angel  or  devil.  Yet  he  followed  as  she 


THE  TEMPTRESS.  165 

willed,  and  felt  every  sense  and  nerve  in  his  body 
tlirill  whenever  he  came  within  the  reach  of  her 
seductive  smiles. 

The  sun  was  now  near  the  horizon,  and  MOBLEY 
rose  to  descend  to  the  town.  But,  as  he  turned  his 
head,  he  saw  several  ladies  coming  toward  him,  and 
decided  to  stop  till  they  had  passed  by.  As  they 
came  up  opposite  to  him,  he  saw  that  Miss  MILL 
WOOD  was  one  of  the  party.  Directly  she  recognized 
him,  she  stepped  forward,  and  spoke  to  him,  while 
the  rest  of  the  party  passed  down  the  hill  to  the 
village.  They  saw  nothing  improper  in  the  proceed 
ings  of  Miss  MILLWOOD,  as  it  was  known  that  the 
engagement  between  MORLEY  and  MARY  MORE  had 
been  broken  up,  and  rumor  alledged  that  he  and 
MILLWOOD  were  engaged  lovers. 

After  a  few  common-place  remarks,  Miss  MILL 
WOOD  looked  around  silently  for  some  moments  with 
a  troubled  countenance.  Ah  !  the  spot  had  remem 
brances  for  her  also ;  and  sometimes,  whether  she 
would  or  not,  she  was  compelled  to  come  even  here 
to  think.  She,  too,  was  familiar  with  these  paths, 
and  had  often  walked  there  with  one  whom  she 
thought,  at  the  time,  she  loved  with  a  deeper  and 
wilder  passion  than  that  she  now  entertained  for 
MORLEY,  and  who,  she  knew,  had  borne  her  in  his 
heart  as  the  most  sacred  thing  on  earth,  so  long  as 
he  believed  her  good  and  faithful.  Well  did  she 
know,  too,  of  that  terrible  agony  which  brought  him 
to  the  brink  of  insanity  when  he  discovered  her  vile- 


166  SIGNET  OF  KING  SOLOMON. 

ness,  and  was  compelled,  by  his  manhood,  to  cast  her, 
at  any  cost,  forth  from  his  bosom.  Even  now  she 
remembered  all  this,  and  still  more  distinctly  her 
last  interview  with  Captain  THORNBURY  on  that  very 
spot,  and  seemed  to  hear  again  his  dreadful  words  of 
doom  :  "  Unfit  for  a  wife,  you  must  tread  the  path  of 
life  alone  !  "  A  slight  palor  spread  over  her  face  as 
these  memories  swept  through  her  mind ;  but  with 
a  recklessness  peculiar  to  such  thoughtless  natures, 
she  quickly  thrust  them  away,  and,  fixing  her  pas 
sionate  glances  on  MORLEY,  rushed  madly  toward 
her  destiny. 

MORLEY  felt  the  old  charm  come  over  him  again, 
and  drank  in  with  rapture  the  dark,  subduing  light 
of  her  eyes ;  but  his  love  struggled  with  grave  doubts. 
Taking  her  hand  in  his,  he  said,  kindly,  but  solemnly : 
"  MAY,  pardon  me  ;  but  I  cannot  help  thinking,  some 
times,  that  you  are  a  little  too  mysterious ;  I  cannot 
comprehend  you." 

Now,  MAY  knew  that  it  would  not  be  safe  to  enter 
on  a  discussion  of  the  subject  she  saw  was  then  in 
MORLEY'S  thoughts ;  and  still  less  so  to  allow  herself 
to  be  subjected  to  a  fire  of  cross-questions. 

With  true  woman's  art,  therefore,  she  met  the 
implied  question  with  an  affectation  of  grief  that 
any  one  could  possibly  entertain  the  least  suspicion 
regarding  her.  She  made  no  reply  to  his  remark, 
but  threw  herself  in  his  arms,  and  burst  into  tears, 
exclaiming : 

"  Oh !  MORLEY,  dear  MORLEY,  how  can  you  speak 


THE  TEMPTRESS.  167 

so  ?  You  know  I  love — nay,  worship  you,  with  all 
the  strength  of  my  ardent  nature.  Oh,  you  are  too 
cruel!"  And  the  tears  flowed  down  her  beautiful 
face,  which  looked  up  into  his  with  a  soft,  pleading, 
reproachful  glance.  The  young  man  could  not  resist 
tears,  and  drew  the  temptress  to  his  breast.  She 
returned  his  embrace  with  passionate  energy,  crying  : 
"  Oh,  my  beloved,  you  do  love  me,  I  know  you  do — 
for  see,  how  wildly  our  hearts  now  beat  against  each 
other!" 

MORLEY  forgot  his  doubts,  MARY  MORE  and  all. 
The  little  storm  of  tears  having  passed  away,  MAY 
continued : 

"  I  sometimes  think,  EDWIN,  that  my  love  is  too 
absorbing,  too  craving ;  and  yet  no  other  love  can 
possibly  satisfy  my  heart,  which  claims  just  as 
absorbing  a  love  in  return.  I  desire  to  be  loved  with 
perfect  abandonment ;  such  as  a  poet  describes  when, 
in  burning  words,  he  pours  forth  the  ardent  expres 
sions  of  his  passion  into  the  ears  of  his  heart's  idol : " 

"  Come,  dearest  maiden,  fill  for  me, 
A  goblet  of  the  orient  wine; 
Now  Luna's  yellow  tresses  twine 
Their  gold  amid  the  brown  of  thine — 

I  drink,  my  love,  to  thee. 
Ay,  twine  thy  glowing  arms,  my  girl, 

Around  my  neck,  and  lay  thy  brow 

Upon  my  bosom  closely  now, 
Until  my  breath  shall  fan  the  curl 

That  wantons  with  my  lips; 
The  jealous  moon  will  learn  full  soon, 

Thine  eyes  are  her  eclipse. 


168  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

Fill  high,  fill  high — -or  live  or  die: 

I  clasp  thee  in  my  arms; 
By  heaven,  I  swear,  that  sky  and  air 

Are  drunken  with  thy  charms. 
My  soul  is  trembling  on  my  breath; 

One  kiss,  and  thou  may'st  taste  it ! 
Soft,  dearest,  soft — it  murmureth — 
Take  not  thy  lips  away,  it  saith, 

Taste  all,  but  do  not  waste  it.'' 

These  words,  and  the  tone  of  impassioned  earnest 
ness  with  which  they  were  uttered,  sent  the  blood 
leaping  and  boiling  through  MORLEY'S  veins,  and  he 
strained  the  enchantress  to  his  breast,  exclaiming : 
"  I  am  thine,  and  my  love  shall  even  surpass  that 
which  you  say  your  heart  yearns  for ;  but,  oh,  MAY, 

if  you  should  deceive  me ."  She  did  not  allow 

him  to  finish  the  sentence ;  for,  hastily  placing  her 
warm  lips  on  his,  she  gave  him  one  of  those  kisses 
that,  with  most  men,  weigh  more  than  a  thousand 
arguments. 

MOELEY  struggled  no  more,  but  yielded,  in  a  wild 
delirium  of  pleasure,  to  the  current  of  passion  which 
was  sweeping  him  along.  He  was  undoubtedly 
weak;  but  let  those  who  think  him  unusually  so 
remember  their  own  young  days  of  enthusiasm,  and 
that  MORLEY  was  ardent,  inexperienced,  and  only 
twenty-two. 

Still  further  to  attach  the  young  man  to  her, 
MAY  delicately  addressed  his  interest  and  ambition. 
Without  any  self-laudation  or  apparent  egotism,  she 
artfully  contrived  to  make  her  lover  think  that  he 


THE   TEMPTRESS.  1G9 

ought  to  be  proud  of  a  wife  who  possessed,  with  un 
questioned  beauty,  so  many  rare  gifts — one  who  had, 
by  superior  intellectual  endowments  and  literary 
attainments,  raised  herself  so  far  above  her  com 
panions. 

She  also  made  him  understand  that  when  her  old 
grandfather  died  she  would  come  into  possession  of 
several  thousand  dollars,  which  was  a  consideration 
not  to  be  despised  by  any  young  man.  Nowr,  do  not 
think  that  EDWIN  MORLEY  was  sordid — far  from  it ; 
he  would  have  thought  it  dishonorable  in  the  extreme 
to  allow  any  such  motive  to  weigh  a  feather  with 
him  in  the  affairs  of  love  and  marriage.  And  had 
Miss  MILLWOOD  directly  offered  any  such  inducements 
to  him  he  would  have  felt  hurt,  if  not  insulted.  The 
cunning  girl  knew  this,  and  adroitly  led  his  own 
thoughts  to  suggest  what  she  desired.  The  beautiful 
devil  could  even  make  her  victim  think  whatever 
she  wished. 

Oh,  EDWIN  MORLEY  !  you,  too,  are  in  the  coils  of  a 
serpent.  Heaven  help  you ! 

The  temptress  had  triumphed,  and  when  they 
separated  that  night,  she  was  the  betrothed  bride 
of  EDWIN  MORLEY. 


MILLWOOD'S   CHILD. 


'  Now  thy  young  heart,  like  a  bird, 

Warbles  in  its  summer  nest; 
No  evil  thought,  no  unkind  word, 
No  chilling  autumn  winds  have  stirred 
The  beauty  of  thy  rest." 


CHAPTEE  X. 

T  was  the  month  of  May — rosy,  smiling, 
fragrant  May — and  the  soft  south  wind, 
sweeping  over  the  blooming  peach  or 
chards  of  New  Jersey,  scattered  their 
sweet  odors,  like  incense  from  a  million 
censers,  over  the  brilliant  and  joyous  city  of 
New  York.  The  great  metropolis  of  the 
United  States  was  in  its  gayest  and  most 
genial  mood.  The  parks,  now  fresh  and  green, 
invited  pedestrians  to  their  clean,  shady  walks ;  the 
broad  branching  trees  resounded  with  the  wild  melo 
dies  of  a  thousand  birds,  which  chanted  their  hymn 
of  gratitude  to  the  advancing  spring,  while  the  clear, 
silvery  laugh  of  happy  childhood  responded  below. 
Costly  equipages,  with  livened  drivers  and  footmen, 
dashed  along  Broadway ;  while  the  sidewalks  of  that 
magnificent  street  were  swept  by  the  trailing  dresses 
of  the  fashionable,  the  beautiful,  the  gay.  The 
windows  of  the  palaces  of  the  rich  were  thrown  open 
to  welcome  the  balmy  atmosphere  which  undulated 
around  them,  and  loud  in  their  glittering  saloons 
were  heard  the  voices  of  the  children  of  fortune, 
prosperity  and  joy.  But  not  for  these  alone  did  the 


174  SIGNET  OF  KING  SOLOMON. 

roses,  and  lilacs,  and  blooming  orchards  scent  the 
breezes  which  fanned  them ;  not  for  these  alone  came 
down  the  glad,  warm  light  of  that  glorious  afternoon. 
•  Into  the  desolate  garret  of  penury,  the  obscure  court, 
where  suffering  virtue  hides  her  weeping  face — ay, 
into  the  haunts  of  crime  and  dens  of  infamy — stole 
the  sweet,  reviving  breath,  and  golden  sunshine  of 
spring,  emblems  of  that  infinite  charity  which  sur 
rounds  and  cares  for  all. 

About  four  o'clock,  on  this  afternoon,  a  gentleman 
issued  from  the  St.  Nicholas  Hotel,  and  paused  for 
some  time  on  the  steps.  His  mild  blue  eye  looked 
with  interest  on  the  tide  of  human  beings  now  rolling 
by,  and  as  he  noted  the  contrasts  of  wealth  and 
poverty,  luxury  and  want,  the  shadow  of  sorrow 
upon  his  benevolent  features  assumed  a  darker 
shade.  After  a  few  minutes  of  apparent  meditation, 
he  signaled  a  coach,  and  entering,  was  driven  rapidly 
up  Broadway  to  the  Fourth  avenue.  Arriving  at 
Twenty-second  street,  he  alighted,  turned  down  to 
the  right,  and  entered  Irving  place.  Noting  the 
numbers,  as  he  moved  along,  he  at  length  stopped 
before  the  door  of  an  elegant  residence,  and  rang. 
The  call  was  soon  answered  by  a  maid-servant,  who 
evidently  knew  who  he  was ;  for,  without  ceremony, 
she  admitted  him,  and,  showing  him  to  a  drawing- 
room,  retired  to  summon  her  mistress. 

The  apartment  into  which  the  gentleman  had  been 
ushered  connected  with  another  by  folding-doors, 
which  were  thrown  open.  Both  rooms  were  furnished 


MAY  MILLWOOD'S  CHILD.  175 

with  luxury  and  taste,  and  were  pervaded  with  a 
delicate  perfume  of  flowers ;  the  tables  and  what 
nots  were  covered  with  books  of  the  most  select 
character,  in  English,  French,  German,  and  Italian, 
and  the  walls  were  graced  with  choice  paintings 
and  exquisite  engravings — all  bearing  witness  to 
the  refined  sentiments  and  thorough  culture  of  the 
lady  who  presided  as  mistress  of  the  mansion; 
while  the  papers  and  manuscripts,  carelessly  thrown 
around,  plainly  evinced  her  literary  proclivities  and 
habits. 

The  visitor  was  not  left  long  to  make  observations 
on  what  he  saw ;  for  soon  a  light  step  was  heard  in 
the  hall,  and  the  lady  of  the  house  entered. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  DE  GROVE  ! " — "  My  very,  very  dear 
friend !"  exclaimed  the  lady  and  the  gentleman,  at 
the  same  time,  as  they  rushed  into  each  other's  arms, 
and  embraced  with  friendly  fervor.  The  gentleman 
took  both  the  lady's  hands  in  his,  and,  looking  down 
into  her  deep  and  earnest  eyes,  said  : 

"  Oh !  you  know  not,  my  sweet  friend,  how  much 
pleasure  I  feel  on  being  blessed  with  a  privilege  of 
seeing  your  fair  friendly  face  once  more." 

"  And  I,"  responded  Mrs.  DE  GROVE,  with  feeling, 
"  I  assure  you,  my  dear  sir,  my  pleasure  is  not  less 
than  yours."  And  then  added :  "  I  expected  you 
soon,  but  was  not  looking  for  you  to-day." 

"  My  business,"  he  rejoined, "  required  my  presence 
in  New  York  much  earlier  than  I  anticipated,  which 
will  account  for  this  surprise." 


176  SIGNET   OF   KING  SOLOMON. 

"All'"  said  the  lady,  smiling,  "some  work  of 
charity,  as  usual ;  some  mission  of  kindness  and 
benevolence,  I  suppose.  Oh !  my  dear  friend,  you 
do  too  much — are  too  sympathetic — and  the  miseries 
of  the  world,  which  you  constantly  strive  to  alleviate, 
are  wearing  your  life  away.  Do  you  not  feel  dis 
couraged,  at  times,  when,  after  all  your  labors,  the 
wail  of  wretchedness  still  swells  through  the  skies  as 
loud  and  despairing  as  ever?" 

"Discouraged  I  certainly  am,  at  times,"  he  re 
turned  ;  "  but  I  never  despair ;  and  continue  to  work 
with  courage,  and  hope,  and  faith.  You  know  my 
motto — '  By  this  sign  we  will  conquer.' "  And,  with  a 
hopeful  smile,  he  raised  the  Templar's  Cross  (which 
he  always  bore  about  his  person)  to  his  lips,  and 
kissed  it  devoutly. 

Mrs.  DE  GROVE  was  a  lady  not  far  from  thirty-five, 
possessing  one  of  those  fine,  sensitive,  high-toned, 
generous,  and  enthusiastic  natures,  of  which  martyrs 
are  made.  Her  form  was  small  and  slight,  but 
exquisitely  formed ;  her  complexion  fair ;  while  her 
face,  radiant  with  love,  and  all  sweet  emotions,  was  a 
vision  of  beauty,  truly  angelic.  Her  talents  were  of  a 
high  order ;  she  possessed  the  soul  of  a  poet,  with 
the  heart  of  a  philanthropist,  and  seemed  to  divine, 
by  a  rare  sympathy,  the  wants  and  sufferings  of 
others,  before  they  had  expressed  them.  She  was 
ever  seeking  new  objects  of  charity,  and  devising 
new  means  for  the  more  efficient  amelioration  of  the 
sorrows  of  the  poor  and  unfortunate.  She  had  been 


MAY  MILLWOOD'S  CHILD.  177 

for  years  acquainted  with  her  visitor,  and  the  friend 
ship  of  the  two  had  grown  stronger,  and  stronger, 
and  more  intimate,  as  time  passed  on.  She  had 
listened  with  the  deepest  interest  and  sympathy  to 
the  story  of  his  life — his  sorrows,  his  disappoint 
ments,  and  his  hopes.  She  entered  into  all  his  plans 
with  eagerness,  and  often  aided  him  by  her  counsel, 
and  still  more  the  tenderness  of  her  generous  soul. 
After  a  pause,  during  which  her  countenance  became 
serious,  she  said : 

"  Have  you  no  news,  my  friend — nothing  to  tell  of 
the  mother  of  little  MARY — Miss  MILLWOOD  ?" 

"Alas!  dear  madam,"  he  returned,  sadly,  "that 
wretched  girl  is  lost — lost.  I  had  strong  hopes  that, 
under  the  influence  of  fear — for  no  other  would  reach 
her — she  might  be  restrained  in  her  career  of  vice, 
and  reform.  Sometimes  I  thought  of  placing  her  in 
your  care,  hoping  that,  surrounded  with  so  much  love 
and  virtue,  she  would  catch  the  contagion  of  good 
ness,  and  rise  to  a  nobler  life.  But  all  that  is  passed. 
She  is  lost.  Her  destiny  is  about  to  be  accomplished. 
But,"  he  added,  quickly,  "where  is  the  child?" 

"  She  is  out  now  with  the  nurse,"  replied  Mrs.  DE 
GROVE,  "  but  will  return  soon.  She  is  a  rare  infant — 
indeed,  the  most  beautiful  child-flower  I  ever  saw. 
Who  would  have  thought  that  the  puny,  sickly  infant 
you  brought  here,  nearly  two  years  ago,  in  a  dying 
condition,  could  ever  have  survived,  to  become  the 
beautiful  witch  that  she  is  ?  " 

While  they  were  speaking,  the  fairy  herself  ran 


178  SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

into  the  room,  and,  going  up  to  Mrs.  DE  GKOVE, 
whom  she  called  mamma,  lifted  up  her  little  face  for 
a  kiss.  The  lady  took  her  in  her  arms,  and  pressed 
her  to  her  heart,  saying :  "  At  least  here  you  shall 
have  a  mother." 

The  gentleman  looked  with  emotion  upon  the  beau 
tiful  child ;  and,  taking  her  into  his  lap,  he  gently 
stroked  her  fair  little  head,  and  its  long,  curly,  dark 
hair.  He  did  not  kiss  her.  Once  or  twice  he  bent 
down  his  head,  as  if  to  do  so,  but  suddenly  drew  it 
back,  as  if  some  painful  memory  restrained  him. 

That  child  was  the  daughter  of  MAY  MILLWOOD 
and  MATTHEW  OBALL. 

In  order  to  understand  this  scene,  the  reader  must 
go  back  with  us  about  two  years. 

Within  a  darkened  chamber  in  a  boarding-house 
on  Hanover  street,  Boston,  a  young  lady  is  lying  on 
a  bed — ill,  but  convalescent.  She  is  sobbing  violently, 
and  her  pale  face  wears  an  expression  of  mingled 
grief,  remorse,  and  fear. 

At  the  foot  of  the  bed  sits  a  nurse,  holding  in  her 
lap  an  infant,  apparently  dying,  over  wrhich  bends  a 
gentleman  with  anxious,  care-worn  look,  observing 
with  painful  emotion  the  agony  of  the  little  sufferer, 
for  which  he  can  devise  no  relief.  After  a  few  more 
struggles,  afflicting  to  behold,  the  poor  child  sunk 
away  into  the  peace  of  death.  Contemplating  for  a 
few  moments  the  little  form  before  him,  the  gentle 
man  rose,  and  advanced  to  the  side  of  the  bed ; 
arousing  the  lady  from  a  stupor  into  which  she  had 


MAY    MILLWOOD  S   CHILD.- . 


179 


fallen,  lie  informed  her.  as  gently  as  he  could,  of  the 
death  of  her  child.  She  started  up  with  a  wild 
scream : 

"  Oh !  niy  baby,  my  dear  little  MARY  !  Oh !  bring 
her  to  me ;  she  is  not — cannot  be  dead." 


The  gentleman  took  the  child,  and  placed  its 
drooping  form  in  the  mother's  arms.  She  strained 
it  to  her  breast ;  then,  holding  it  out  in  her  hands, 
she  gazed  some  minutes  upon  its  pale  features,  with 
a  wild,  wistful  stare,  when,  turning  to  the  gentleman 
with  a  look  of  deepest  despair,  she  exclaimed : 

"  Baby  is  dead  !  baby  is  dead ! "  and  fell  back  on 
the  bed  in  a  swoon. 


180  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

The  gentleman  carefully  disengaged  the  child  from 
her  arms,  and  laying  it  upon  the  bed,  examined  it 
attentively.  He  started  on  seeing  a  faint,  roseate 
tinge  stealing  upon  its  cheek,  and,  eagerly  tearing 
open  its  dress  at  the  breast,  placed  his  fingers  softly 
on  its  heart.  After  an  observation  of  a  few  seconds^ 
he  said  to  himself : 

"  The  poor  thing  lives  ;  this  fit,  so  strongly  resem 
bling  death,  only  indicates  the  crisis  of  the  disease. 
Alas !  far  better  would  it  have  been,  for  its  own  sake, 
had  it  now  fled  from  this  world  of  grief  to  the  land 
of  angels.  And,  with  such  a  mother,  what  a  fate  it 
must  encounter ! " 

After  standing  a  little  while,  as  if  considering,  he 
ordered  the  nurse  to  call  Mrs.  PAINE,  the  landlady. 
She  soon  appeared.  He  held  a  brief  consultation 
apart,  in  a  low  tone,  when  she  took  the  *  child,  and 
left  the  room. 

The  gentleman  then  went  out,  and  summoned  an 
undertaker.  A  tiny  rose-wood  coffin  was  procured, 
bearing  a  silver  plate,  with  the  inscription,  "  Mary 
Ludloiv,  daughter  of  May  Milhcood,  aged  two  months" 

In  due  time,  this  coffin  was  placed  in  a  box,  and 
deposited  in  the  public  burying-ground  at  East 
Boston  ;  but  little  MARY  was  not  in  the  coffin. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  poor  child  was  given  in  charge 
to  a  skillful  nurse  ;  and  when  it  was  finally  recovered 
was  taken  to  New  York  by  the  gentleman,  and 
adopted  by  Mrs.  DE  GROVE,  from  whom  it  received 
more  than  a  mother's  care,  and  all  of  a  mother's  love. 


MAY  MILLWOOD'S  CHILD.  181 

MAY  MILLWOOD  never  saw  her  child  again. 

Little  MARY  was  now  two  years  old,  and  Mrs.  DE 
GROVE  was  justly  proud  of  her  lovely  charge.  That 
admirable  wroman  never  tired  in  any  good  work ;  and 
on  hearing  from  her  friend  the  melancholy  story  of 
Miss  MILLWOOD  had  resolved  to  make  an  effort  to 
save  the  misguided  girl,  and  she  was  deeply  pained 
when  informed  that  it  was  too  late — that  the  wretched 
one  had  passed  the  line  of  crime  whence  there  can 
be  no  return. 

The*  two  friends  conversed  for  some  time,  consider 
ing  plans  for  the  future  welfare  of  their  common 
charge,  when  the  gentleman,  after  giving  the  little 
one  some  pretty  toys,  and  his  friend  a  parting  em 
brace,  departed. 

From  Irving  place  he  retraced  his  steps  to  the 
Fourth  avenue,  crossed  Union  Park,  and  entered 
the Seminary. 

Some  one  has  well  said  that  "  the  most  certain 
cure  for  love  is  the  knowledge  of  the  unworthiness 
of  its  object."  MARY  MORE  found  this  postulate 
correct.  After  some  months,  she  became  convinced 
that  MORLEY  was  fickle  and  weak ;  and,  summoning 
her  pride  to  her  aid,  cast  forth  his  image  from  her 
heart,  as  she  thought,  forever.  It  is  true  she  expe 
rienced  a  painful  sense  of  loss — a  desolation  of  soul, 
which  time  alone  could  remove.  Highly  religious 
herself,  and  possessing  the  entire  affection  and  confi 
dence  of  her  friends,  she  was  tranquil,  if  not  happy. 
And  when  she  was  made  acquainted  with  MORLEY'S 


182  SIGNET   OF  KIXG   SOLOMON. 

assiduous  attentions  to  Miss  MILLWOOD,  it  gave  her 
no  pain,  nor  caused  her  any  regrets,  although  she 
marveled  much  at  his  choice ;  for,  although  she  had 
freely  associated  with  that  young  lady,  she  had  always 
felt — she  knew  not  why — a  repugnance  to  her.  Her 
pure  and  sensitive  soul  unconsciously  shrank  from 
her,  as  from  something  polluted  and  base. 

Recovering  thus  her  tranquillity,  Miss  MORE  soon 
began  to  improve  in  health,  and,  although  at  this 
time  not  wholly  restored,  she  was  so  much  better 
that  her  friends  no  longer  entertained  any  serious 
apprehensions  concerning  her. 

The  labors  of  the  day  being  over,  and  the  dinner- 
hour  passed,  she  had  gone  to  her  room.  Seated  at 
a  table,  she  leaned  her  lovely  heai  upon  her  hands 
in  a  thoughtful  attitude.  Presently,  she  took  up  an 
Herbarium,  laid  it  open  before  her,  and  silently  con 
templated  one  of  the  pages.  This  page  was  evidently 
most  dear  to  her,  and  had  daily  been  the  object  of  her 
affectionate  inspection.  On  the  top  of  it  appeared  a 
full-blown  rose,  with  the  words  " my  mother'  written 
underneath.  On  the  right,  a  little  below,  was  a  moss- 
rose,  with  the  words  "  my  sister  Emma;'"  and  opposite 
this  a  rose-bud,  marked  "  sister  Aggie"  while  below 
was  placed  a  sweet-william,  with  the  name  of  "  Edwin 
Morley"  The  first  three  she  kissed  with  the  deepest 
affection;  and  after  regarding  the  other  for  some  time, 
with  a  sad  smile,  she  slowly  and  carefully  removed 
it,  and,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  cast  it  out  of  the 
window,  together  with  the  memory  of  her  love. 


MAY  MILLWOOD'S  CHILD.  183 

Then,  taking  an  eraser,  she  proceeded  to  obliterate 
the  name  of  EDWIN  MORLEY  from  the  page,  as  she 
had  already  endeavored  to  erase  his  image  from  her 
heart. 

She  was  engaged  in  this  occupation  when  a  servant 
came  to  announce  that  a  gentleman  was  waiting 
below,  desiring  to  speak  with  her. 

"  Did  he  give  his  name  ?"  she  inquired. 

"No;  he  only  said  he  was  a  friend  of  your  family," 
replied  the  servant. 

Her  past  experiences,  and  the  frequent  warnings 
of  her  mother,  had  made  MARY  prudent  and  wary  in 
regard  to  visitors,  and  she  had  steadily  refused  to  be 
at  home  to  any  persons  she  did  not  know.  She 
therefore  hesitated  a  few  moments,  as  if  considering 
whether  it  would  be  quite  safe  to  deviate  from  this 
line  of  policy  in  the  present  instance.  Her  hesitation 
was  not  long,  however;  for,  feeling  there  could  be  no 
danger  with  her  friends  all  around,  and  within  call, 
she  followed  the  maid  down  the  stairs,  and  entered 
the  parlor. 

What  was  her  surprise  and  joy  when  she  saw  that 
her  visitor  was  her  mysterious  protector — the  gentle 
man  in  black.  He  took  her  lily  hands  in  his,  and 
looked  long  and  thoughtfully  into  her  beautiful  face, 
on  which  the  roses  of  health  had  again  begun  to 
bloom.  The  scrutiny  seemed  to  be  satisfactory;  for, 
leading  her  to  a  sofa,  and  placing  her  beside  him,  he 
said,  while  a  happy  smile  played  upon  his  lips: 

"How  delighted  I  am,  Miss  MORE,  to  see  that 


184  SIGNET  OF  KING  SOLOMON. 

neither  your  arduous  labors,  nor  any  other  cause,  has 
either  materially  affected  your  health  or  disturbed 
the  tranquillity  of  your  heart." 

The  marked  emphasis  with  which  he  pronounced 
the  words  "  other  cause"  told  MABY,  plainly  enough, 
that  the  stranger,  who  seemed  to  know  everything 
concerning  herself,  also  knew  of  her  early  love  for 
MORLEY,  and  the  position  in  which  they  then  stood 
to  each  other,  and  the  roses  on  her  cheeks  glowed 
with  a  redder  tinge. 

"Pray,  sir,"  said  the  young  lady,  after  a  short  si 
lence,  "  if  it  be  not  impertinent  in  me  to  ask,  will  you 
inform  me  how  you,  a  stranger,  whom  I  have  never 
seen  but  three  times  in  my  life,  have  become  so 
familiar  with  all  my  history,  my  trials,  hopes  and 
disappointments;  even  the  sufferings  and  dangers 
which  await  me  in  the  future  ?  and  also  why  is  it 
that  you  take  so  kindly  an  interest  in  my  welfare — a 
person  unknown  to  you,  and  having  no  claims  what 
ever  to  your  protection?  I  do  not  even  know  your 
name;  and  yet,  with  a  brother's  love  and  care,  you 
have  watched  over  me,  and  your  strong  arm  hath 
shielded  me  from  harm." 

The  stranger  smiled;  he  saw  that  she  desired  to 
know  his  name,  but  was  restrained  from  asking  by 
an  excessive  delicacy,  and  replied: 

"  For  the  present,  I  am  nameless;  but  your  father 
was  my  friend,  and  the  daughter  of  my  friend  is 
entitled  to  my  protection  and  care;  let  this  suffice 
you,  my  dear  child.  I  cannot,  indeed,  promise  to 


MAY  MILLWOOD'S  CHILD.  185 

shield  3ron  from  your  share  of  sorrow;  for,  alas !  where 
is  the  heart  but  has  its  griefs — where  the  soul  but  has 
its  dark  trials  ?  Yet  I  think  I  can  assure  you  that 
bright  days  of  happiness  are  in  store  for  you — days 
of  restored  confidence,  mutual  trust  and  love." 

MARY  started  at  these  strange  words,  and  threw  a 
penetrating  glance  upon  the  stranger,  as  if  seeking 
the  meaning  of  his  language,  at  the  same,  time 
replying,  earnestly: 

"  But,  sir,  confidence  can  never  be  restored  which 
has  been  destroyed  by  falsehood  and  baseness,  nor  can 
love  revive,whose  object  is  discovered  to  be  unworthy." 

"True,  true,  Miss  MORE;  but  sometimes  appear 
ances  mislead  us,  and,  judging  and  acting  hastily,  we 
bring  upon  ourselves  much  unhappiness." 

"  But  neither  my  experience  nor  observation,"  she 
quickly  replied,  "  present  any  such  example." 

"Perhaps  not;  yet  such  an  example  may  occur 
hereafter,"  he  rejoined;  and  then,  as  if  to  change  the 
subject,  he  asked,  abruptly,  "  Have  you  heard  from 
your  friends  recently?" 

"  I  received  a  letter  from  mother  yesterday,'1  she 
answered;  and  I  intend  to  return  home  in  a  few 
days.  Oh !  my  dear,  dear  mother  and  sisters — how 
rejoiced  I  shall  be  to  see  them  again !" 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  are  to  go  home  so  soon. 
Your  mother  yearns  to  embrace  you  again,  and  your 
presence  with  your  friends  will  not  only  subserve 
their  happiness,  but  also  promote  your  own  in  more 
ways  than  one,  You  know  EDWIN  MORLEY,  I  think." 


186  SIGNET  OF  KING  SOLOMON. 

Miss  MORE  gave  a  slight  start;  but,  controlling 
herself,  responded,  with  a  tone  of  perfect  indifference: 

"  Oh,  yes:  I  am  well  acquainted  with  that  young 
gentleman;  he  is,  I  believe,  about  to  be  married." 

"  You  may  have  heard  so,"  replied  the  gentleman 
in  black;  "  but  EDWIN  MORLEY  will  never  marry  Miss 
MILLWOOD." 

"  Miss  MILLWOOD  !  Do  you  then  know  Miss  MILL 
WOOD  ?"  quickly  asked  the  maiden,  her  eyes  opening 
wider  with  astonishment. 

"  I  have  known  her  well  for  many  years,"  he  replied ; 
"  her  dark  f.nd  restless  spirit  is  destined  to  work  her 
much  woe  and  wretchedness.  I  am  aware  of  her 
efforts  to  gain  young  MORLEY,  but  she  will  fail." 

"  But  EDWIN — I  mean  Mr.  MORLEY — loves  her  very 
deeply,  I  have  been  told,"  answered  Miss  MORE,  with 
a  sigh. 

"Ah!  my  dear  child,  you  are  too  young  and 
innocent  to  comprehend  that  most  mysterious  of  all 
mysteries,  the  heart  of  man,"  he  continued :  "  MAY 
MILLWOOD  has  no  place  in  the  inner  sanctuary  of 
MORLEY'S  heart ;  he  is  fascinated,  but  does  not  love 
her.  That  she  has  gained  his  ear,  and  for  a  time 
enslaved  his  senses  by  some  wicked  means,  is  no 
doubt  true ;  but  time  will  unravel  her  plots.  She 
will  never  be  the  wife  of  MORLEY." 

The  stranger  said  no  more  on  the  subject  which 
interested  Miss  MORE  so  deeply ;  and  after  a  short 
time  he  rose  to  depart,  saying  : 

"  Miss  MORE,  I  return  to  Massachusetts  to-morrow, 


MAY  MILLWOOD'S  CHILD.  187' 

and  shall  be  happy  to  bear  any  message  you  may 
desire  to  forward  to  your  friends,  and  will  call  to 
receive  your  commands  before  I  leave  the  city." 

After  his  departure,  MARY  sat  for  a  long  time  in  a 
stupor  of  astonishment.  Her  visitor  was  himself  a 
mystery,  and  his  words  were  all  enigmas,  which  she 
vainly  sought  to  solve.  He  appeared  to  her  like 
a  person  whose  earnest  and  truthful  heart  had  at 
some  time  received  a  severe  shock,  and  his  habitual 
melancholy  spoke  of  wounds  that  were  not  yet 
wholly  healed  over.  She  was  convinced,  however, 
that  in  all  his  acts  which  concerned  her,  or  her 
interests,  he  was  moved  by  a  strong  and  untiring 
friendship  for  her  family  ;  but  his  perfect  knowledge 
of  MOKLEY  and  Miss  MILLWOOD,  and  their  proceed 
ings,  puzzled  her.  The  manner  in  which  he  spoke 
of  that  young  lady  proved  that  his  acquaintance 
with  her  must  have  been  somewhat  intimate ;  for 
how  else  would  he  have  penetrated  so  deeply  into 
her  dark  spirit,  and  made  himself  so  familiar  with 
her  designs  ?  All  his  language  was  so  formed  as  to 
suggest  a  thousand  vague  and  indefinite  thoughts ; 
and  thus  the  poor  girl  remained,  floating  about  in  a 
sea  of  wild  conjectures,  until  the  seminary  bell  sum 
moned  her  to  tea. 

On  leaving  Miss  MOKE,  the  gentleman  in  black 
proceeded  down  Broadway  to  Wall  street,  and 
entered  the  office  of  a  Life  Insurance  Company. 

"  Mr.  BENTON,"  he  said,  addressing  the  Actuary, 
"  I  wish  to  take  out  a  policy  on  the  life  of  a  child,  for 


188  SIGNET    OF   KING    SOLOMON. 

the  benefit  of  a  family  in  which  I  am  much  interested. 
You  will  find  the  particulars  in  this  paper  ;"  and  he 
laid  the  application,  with  specifications,  upon  the 
table.  "  I  do  this,"  he  continued,  "believing  it  to  be 
the  best  investment  I  can  make,  for  them ;  for,  should 
the  child  happily  live,  still,  after  a  course  of  years, 
the  policy  would  have  a  certain  value,  and  could  be 
advantageously  disposed  of  for  money.  I  desire  to 
have  the  papers  prepared  as  soon  as  convenient,  and 

deposited  with  Mrs.  DE  GROVE,  at  No. Irving 

Place.  The  premium  will  be  paid  at  the  Bank  of 
Commerce  whenever  you  caU  for  it." 

The  Actuary,  after  attentively  examining  the  appli 
cation,  replied,  "  I  will  attend  to  the  matter  without 
delay.  Our  physician,  Dr.  MEEKS,  shall  call  and 
see  the  child  this  evening." 

"  Very  well ;  I  rely  on  your  promptitude,"  added 
the  gentleman  in  black,  and  he  passed  from  the  office 
into  the  street. 


FLOWER-GATHERERS. 


innr 


"Oh!  thou  beloved,  come  home!   the  hi 

Of  many  a  greeting  tone, 
The  time  of  hearth-light  and  of  song, 
Returns,  and  thou  art  gone." 

MRS.  HEM.VNS. 


CHAPTEE  XI. 

T  was  early  June,  and  the  hills  and 
woods  of  Oceanville  were  covered  and 
filled  with  beauty,  and  fragrance,  and 
song.  The  sweet  wild  flowers,  which, 
in  boundless  profusion  and  variety,  lifted 
up  their  bright  faces  on  every  hand,  spoke 
soothingly  and  lovingly  to  the  heart,  and 
seemed  to  invite  all  to  Nature's  great  ban 
quet  of  beauty  and  joy.  Oh !  season  of  bright  hopes, 
soft  emotions,  tender  confidences,  and  holy  love ! 
How  the  heart  warms  under  thy  balmy  breath,  and 
the  soul  enlarges  under  thy  expanding  smiles  !  Not 
only  upon  the  rocks  and  hill- sides  does  thy  soft 
influence  cause  the  flowers  to  bloom,  but  also  in 
man's  sorrowful  breast  it  plants  anew  the  fair  rose  of 
expectation  and  of  faith.  All  things — the  sea,  the 
earth,  and  the  heavens — appear  to  dissolve  in  love. 
Even  Nature's  heart  throbs  with  sacred  joy,  as  if  in 
response  to  the  poet's  adjuration  : 

"  Put  on,  put  on  your  richest  dress; 

Don  all  your  charms,  ye  vales  of  ours; 
For  my  love  goeth  forth  in  her  loveliness — 
She  goeth  to  gather  flowers." 


192  SIGNET   OF   KING    SOLOMON. 

The  earth  stands  before  us  in  transfigured  glory — 
smiling,  joyful  and  gay — with  her  robe  of  flowers, 
and  leaves,  and  rosy  light.  From  the  green  sunny 
hills,  and  perfumed  woods,  and  retired  glens — where 
the  violets  and  Erythroniums  nestle  in  their  fairy 
home — a  thousand  voices  steal  upon  our  ears,  soft 
and  sweet  as  angel's  whispers,  inviting  us  to  the 
fields  and  woods,  to  a  communion  with  Nature's 
wondrous  beauty,  and  with  him  of  whom  all  of 
summer's  luxuriant  glory  is  a  dim  reflection. 

Toward  the  close  of  one  fair  afternoon,  a  company 
of  young  people,  called  out  by  the  attraction  of  the 
season,  might  have  been  seen  on  the  brow  of  the 
hill,  where  we  have  twice  before  had  occasion  to 
conduct  the  reader.  They  had  been  gathering 
flowers  for  some  time  in  the  groves,  and  were  now 
seated  around  upon  the  rocks,  assorting  and  ar 
ranging  them  in  bouquets,  according  to  their  various 
fancies  and  tastes.  They  were  a  glad  and  merry 
group,  and  formed  altogether  a  lovely  picture,  as 
they  sat  there  in  the  soft  evening  sunshine,  twining 
their  wreaths  and  binding  up  their  nosegays. 

"  Oh !  how  I  wish  MAKY  MORE  was  here ;  she 
always  enjoyed  these  excursions  so  much !  Shan't 
we  be  glad,  girls,  when  she  returns  to  us  again  ? " 
said  a  tall  and  elegantly-formed  girl,  with  a  sweet 
oval  face,  radiant  with  goodness,  and  a  pair  of  bright, 
blue  eyes,  whom  we  shall  call  LUCIE  ELMORE. 

"  That  we  shall,"  replied  Miss  GLADSTONE  ;  "  and 
won't  we  have  a  joyful  time  when  she  does  come  ?  " 


THE    FLOWER-GATHERERS.  193 

MARY  had  always  been  a  favorite  with  her  com 
panions,  and  was  ever  the  subject  of  affectionate 
conversation  and  remembrance  when  they  were 
together. 

"  By  the  way,  LUCIE,"  continued  Miss  GLADSTONE, 
"  I  wonder  how  MOHLEY  will  appear  when  he  meets 
her?  Who  would  have  thought  that  he  could  have 
forsaken  her  for  MAY  MILLWOOD — they  are  so  dif 
ferent!  I  believe  it  is  all  MILLWOOD'S  doings.  For 
my  part  I  never  could  comprehend  that  girl ;  there 
is  something  dark  and  mysterious  about  her." 

"  There,  there,  now,  be  charitable,"  replied  LUCIE 
ELMORE  ;  "  you  know  it  is  said,  MARY  herself  broke 
off  the  engagement,  and  refused  to  write  to  MORLEY." 

"  I  know  it  is  so  reported,"  rejoined  Miss  GLAD 
STONE  ;  "  but,  still,  I  cannot  help  thinking  there  is 
something  strange  in  the  affair.  He  thinks  she  found 
a  new  love,  and  cast  him  off  contemptuously ;  but 
I  know  better.  MARY  is  honorable  and  generous, 
incapable  of  a  mean  act ;  and  had  she  found  that 
she  had  mistaken  the  nature  of  her  sentiments 
toward  her  lover,  she  would  frankly  have  told  him  so. 
No,  girls ;  there  is  mystery  about  this." 

"Ah!  here  conies  EMMA  MORE,"  exclaimed  LUCIE, 
as  the  lovely  sister  of  our  heroine  stepped  into  the 
circle.  "  Why  didn't  you  join  us  in  our  excursion 
when  we  first  came  out ;  you  would  -have  had  a  nice 
time?" 

"  I  intended  to  do  so  ;  but  just  as  I  was  ready  to 
start,  a  gentleman  brought  us  a  letter  from  sister 

n 


194  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

MAKY,  whom  lie  saw  in  New  York  yesterday,  and  I 
stopped  to  read  it,  and  make  inquiries  about  lier. 
Only  think,"  she  added,  with  animation — her  counte 
nance  beaming  with  joyful  expectation — "only  five 
days  more,  and  she  will  be  here ;  she  will  arrive  on 
Saturday." 

"  Good !  good ! "  cried  the  whole  group  at  once, 
with  genuine  satisfaction.  "Dear  MARY,  it  seems 
an  age  since  she  went  away." 

"  But,  tell  us,  EMMA,"  said  Miss  GLADSTONE,  "  who 
was  the  gentleman  that  brought  the  good  news  ?  For 
one,  I  feel  deeply  grateful  to  him  for  his  tidings." 

"Why,"  responded  EMMA;  "he  was  that  strange 
gentleman,  of  whose  kind  and  noble  deeds  we  have 
heard  so  much  during  the  past  year,  and  about  whom 
we  know  so  litile." 

"  Indeed ! "  said  Miss  ELMOKE  ;  "  he  is  a  mysterious 
personage,  truly ;  so  sad  and  melancholy,  and  yet  so 
good  and  benevolent — so  kind  to  the  poor,  so  tender 
to  the  suffering,  and  so  amiable  and  gentle  to  all. 
He  is  a  perfect  gentleman,  and  I  really  believe,  if  I 
knew  who  he  was,  I  should  set  my  cap  for  him." 

"  You  couldn't  do  better,  LUCIE,"  said  Miss  GLAD 
STONE  ;  "  he  is  certainly  worthy  to  possess  the  heart 
of  any  damsel.  Not  a  day  passes  but  we  hear  of 
some  new  story  of  his  beneficence.  Why,  sometimes 
I  think  he  is  the  genius  of  benevolence  itself,  sent 
down  into  our  miserable,  grief-stricken  world  to 
lighten  the  burden  of  its  sorrows." 

"But,  don't   you   think,"  rejoined   Miss   ELMORK, 


THE   FLOWER-GATHEKERS.  195 

"there  is  something  familiar  in  his  looks?  I  have 
often  thought  he  bore  a  strong  resemblance  to  Cap 
tain  THORNBURY.  His  mouth  is  like  the  captain's, 
and  the  eyes,  shade  and  expression  of  the  face  are 
the  same.  And  then,  in  character,  the  two  gentle 
men  are  not  unlike.1' 

"I  have  often  remarked  the  same,"  replied  Miss 
GLADSTONE  ;  "  Captain  THORNBURY,  you  know,  was 
one  of  the  most  amiable  and  generous  of  men.  By- 
the-by,  I  wonder  where  he  is  now !  I  would  give 
anything  to  see  him.  Since  he  went  out  into  the 
western  country,  I  cannot  learn  that  he  has  been 
heard  from  but  a  very  few  times.  We  have  missed 
him  much  at  our  social  gatherings.  Don't  you  wish 
he  would  come  back  again,  LUCIE  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  should,"  replied  Miss  ELMORE  ;  "  our 
village  has  been  dull  enough  since  he  left." 

And  thus  these  charming  maidens  chatted  away 
the  time  until  the  gray  twilight  began  to  spread  over 
the  landscape,  when  they  gathered  up  their  floral 
treasures,  and  set  out  for  their  homes.  For  some 
time  their  silvery  laughter  and  melodious  voices 
rang  along  the  hill-side,  and  then  died  away  in  the 
distance. 


:-rr- 


TJBGE  PLOTTERS. 


1  Night,  deep  and  black,  came  down  on  sea  and  land, 
Cooling  with  dews  the  burning  breath  of  day; 

No  sound  was  heard,  save  on  the  distant  strand, 
The  low,  dull  murmur  of  the  star-lit  bay." 

ARNOLD. 

„ »     *     *     *    Tliey  do  their  work 

In  secrecy  and  silence;  but  their  power 

Is  far  more  fatal  than  the  open  shafts 

Of  malice  or  of  hate.     Like  spiders  on 

The  wall,  they  weave  the  deadly  web,  to  snaro 

The  innocent  and  good. " 

SWAIN. 


CHAPTEE  XII. 

'EEP  night  had  fallen  on  the  world, 
and  its  long,  thick  shadows  wrapt 
hill  and  wood  in  their  close  embrace. 
About  one  hundred  rods  from  the 
spot  where,  a  little  while  since,  we  listened  to 
the  conversation  of  the  maiden-troop,  and  a 
little  to  the  left  of  the  path  leading  into  the 
town,  lies  a  deep  ravine,  completely  concealed 
from  observation  by  overhanging  trees  and  bushes, 
and  watered  by  a  small  brook,  which  rolls  its  slug 
gish  waters  down  through  the  meadows  to  the  sea. 
In  one  of  the  obscurer  corners  of  this  secluded  place, 
two  persons — a  gentleman  and  a  lady — were  engaged 
in  earnest  conversation.  They  were  evidently  in  no 
very  happy  mood;  for  the  gentleman  kept  beating 
the  rocks  impatiently  with  his  feet,  while  the  lady 
stirred  the  water  angrily  with  the  stick  of  her  parasol. 
"  So,  ORALL,"  said  the  lady,  "you  say  MARY  MORE 
will  be  at  home  on  Saturday." 

"  Yes,  MAY,"  replied  ORALL  ;  "  her  mother  received 
a  letter  from  her  to-day,  announcing  her  return  at 
that  time.  Our  schemes  have  not  prospered  well ; 
and  should  MARY  and  MORLEY  meet  mutual  explana 
tions  would  follow,  and  you  would  lose  your  husband.'1 


200  Sift  NET   OF    KING    SOLOMON. 

"And  you,  MATTHEW  ORALL,"  interrupted  MAY 
MILLWOOD,  "  would  lose  your  revenge,  would  you 
not?" 

"  By  all  the  demons !  yes,"  replied  the  gentleman, 
in  a  voice  low  and  husky  with  rage.  "  We  have  been 
foiled  at  every  turn,  and  I  cannot  but  think  that  this 
meddling  stranger — the  gentleman  in  black,  as  he  is 
called — has  had  something  to  do  with  it.  He  seems 
to  be  as  ubiquitous  as  the  devil,  always  interfering, 
under  the  spacious  pretence  of  charity  and  benevo 
lence.  I  tell  you,  MAY,"  he  added,  vehemently,  "  you 
have  delayed  this  matter  too  long ;  you  should  have 
caged  your  victim  before." 

"  But,"  rejoined  MAY,  "  how  could  I  ?  Urging  him 
to  hasten  his  marriage  with  me  would  only  excite 
his  suspicion,  which  has  more  than  once  already  been 
awakened.  How  unfortunate  the  girl  should  return 
so  soon !  If  she  could  have  been  detained  only  one 
month  longer,  all  would  have  been  safe." 

"  But  why,  in  the  devil's  name,  does  MORLEY  wish 
to  postpone  his  marriage  for  a  month  ?  "  asked  ORALL. 

"  It  is  a  whim  of  his ;  his  birth-day  comes  then, 
and  he  has  a  fancy  to  be  married  at  that  time,"  re 
plied  MAY. 

"  ORALL,"  resumed  the  girl,  after  a  short  pause,  in 
a  tone  of  deep  meaning,  "  MARY  must  not  return." 

"  It  is  easy  to  say  that ;  but  be  so  good  as  to  tell 
me  how  it  can  be  prevented  ?  "  replied  ORALL. 

"  But  I  tell  you  it  must  be  prevented,  and  you  must 
find  the  means,"  said  Miss  MILLWOOD.  "  Listen  :  you 


THE   PLOTTERS.  201 

are  a  man  of  genius — fertile  in  inventions — skilled  in 
all  evil  expedients,  and  cunning  enough  for  the  execu 
tion  of  any  mischief.  Go  to  New  York  to-morrow ; 
seek  out  some  of  your  old  confederates,  and  create 
circumstances  which  will  cast  suspicion  of  crime  on 
Miss  MORE.  Have  her  accused  of  theft,  wantonness 
— even  murder,  if  necessary — and  thus  secure  her 
arrest  for  a  period,  and  then  we  shall  have  time  to 
accomplish  our  purposes." 

"You  speak  wisely,"  replied  ORALL;  "what  you 
suggest  may  be  done ;  and  I  doubt  not-  of  suc 
cess,  if  that  devilish  stranger,  who  has  constituted 
himself  the  champion  of  innocence,  does  not  in 
terfere." 

"You  need  not  fear  him,"  responded  MILLWOOD, 
"  at  least,  not  now ;  for  he  is  not  in  New  York,  and 
there  is  no  probability  of  his  returning  there  for 
weeks  to  come." 

"Well,  MAY,  I  will  do  as  you  advise,  and  if  we 
fail  this  time  it  will  not  be  my  fault ;  but  remember 
if,  to  effect  the  destruction  of  that  girl,  we  step 
deeper  into  crime  you  share  all  its  dangers." 

"  What  care  I  for  dangers ! "  replied  the  wreckless 
girl.  "  I  have  set  my  soul  on  this  affair,  and  I  will 
effect  my  purpose,  or  perish  in  the  attempt." 

The  night-shadows  grew  thicker  and  blacker 
around  these  children  of  crime ;  but  the  darkness 
without  was  not  so  black  as  the  fell  purpose  they 
were  striving  to  execute.  They  conversed  for  a  long 
time  in  a  low  tone,  perfecting  their  plans,  and  pre- 
9* 


2O2  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

paring  the  means  to  strike  their  victim  with  a  new 
and  more  fatal  blow. 

After  a  time  everything  seemed  to  be  arranged 
to  their  mutual  satisfaction,  and  they  arose  and 
separated. 

While  OIIALL,  by  a  circuitous  route,  sought  his 
lodgings,  MAY  went  down   the  narrow  path   alone. 
She  had  just  entered  the  street  where  it  winds  around 
several  buildings,  forming  a  complete  turn,  when  a 
person,  who  had  been  partially  concealed  by  an  old- 
fashioned  pump  on  the  right,  stepped  out  into  the 
road,  and  darted  rapidly  along  the  street ;  but,  as  he 
passed  her,  he  bent  his  head  close  to  her  ear,  and 
whispered  something  which,  whatever  it  was,  had  a 
terrible  effect  on  the  girl.     She  started  with  terror, 
and  staggering  up  to  a  fence  which   surrounded  a 
stone  house  on  the  corner,  supported  herself  against 
it.      She   looked   wildly  around,  but   could   see   no 
person.     The  street  was  deserted,  and  not  a  solitary 
footfall  broke  the  silence  of  the  night.     She  threw 
back  her  bonnet,  exposing  her  burning  brow  to  the 
cool  night  wind,  which  now  breezed  up  quite  strongly 
from  the  sea.     In  a  short  time  she  recovered  herself 
sufficiently  to  proceed  on  her  way,  and  soon  regained 
her  dwelling.     Going  directly  to  her  chamber,  she 
threw   herself  into   a   chair,  agitated   by  the   most 
gloomy  forebodings. 

<(  Again,  again,"  she  cried,  "  those  dreadful  words  ! 
will  they  never  cease  to  ring  in  my  ears  ?  The  voice 
was  that  of  THORNBURY,  and  yet  THORNBURY  is  at 


THE   PLOTTERS.  203 

the  West,  and  I  surely  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  flow 
ing  locks  of  the  strange  gentleman  who  has  made 
himself  so  noted  of  late.  Who  and  what  is  this 
man  ?  Is  he  a  detecter  of  crime,  and  a  punisher  of 
the  guilty,  as  well  as  a  helper  of  the  poor  and  unfor 
tunate  ?  What  connection  has  he  with  THORNBURY  ? 
Does  he  know  his  secrets?" 

These  questions  ran  rapidly  through  the  brain  of 
the  guilty  girl.  She  had  often  met  him,  and  his 
presence  always  filled  her  with  vague  apprehensions. 
He  seemed  to  be  omnipresent,  following  her  steps 
like  an  avenging  NEMESIS.  Once,  during  a  visit  to 
Boston,  as  she  was  walking  down  Hanover  street 
with  MORLEY,  she  met  him,  and  the  same  great  fear 
fell  upon  her,  and,  under  some  pretence,  she  urged 
MORLEY  to  turn  back.  A  few  minutes  after  passing 
down  Sudbury  street,  she  had  scarcely  passed  the  At 
lantic  House,  when  the  same  mysterious  person  was 
directly  before  her.  At  this  time,  her  agitation  was 
so  great  that  MORLEY  had  to  place  her  in  a  coach. 

"How  strange  it  is ! "  she  continued,  speaking  to 
herself  ;  "  I  never  see  that  man  but  I  think  of  THORN- 
BURY,  and  hear  again  his  fearful  words :  '  Beware ! 
you  are  on  the  path  of  crime.'  But  away  with  such 
thoughts !  they  are  only  fancies ;  I  have  chosen  my 
path,  and  will  walk  in  it ;  I  have  accepted  my  destiny, 
and  will  fulfill  it.  This  time  I  will  not  be  frustrated 
in  my  design.  That  hated  girl,  who  has  crossed 
me  so  many  times,  shall  be  ruined,  and  I  shall  gain 
MORLEY." 


204  SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

But,  still,  there  were  times  when  she  did  not  feel 
quite  so  confident — times  of  regret,  almost  of  re 
morse — when  she  would  sigh  for  a  past  which  could 
never  return,  and  shrink  with  dread  from  a  future, 
which,  at  best,  must  always  be  dark  to  her.  "  But  it 
is  my  fate,"  she  would  say — "my  destiny — and  I 
cannot  avoid  it." 


NEW  DIFFICULTIES. 


•  Mysterious  Future !  fathomless !  o'ercast ! 

Dread  mother  of  events !  —from  whose  deep  womb 
The  ages  rise ;  then  roll  into  the  Past ! 

Their  cradle  thou— the  hoary  Past  their  tomb ! 
Sea  unexplored!  where  floats  conjecture's  barque, 

With  pilot  none,  nor  instrument  to  guide 
Through  fatal  rocks,  hid  in  thy  bosom  dark; 

Or  to  green  isles,  which  sleep  upon  thy  tide. 
Dread  Book  of  Fate !  sealed  up,  yet  e?er  unsealing ! 
Thy  secret  ne'er  revealed !  yet  aye  revealing ! 

Oh !  who  e'er  read  one  page  of  that  dark  Book  ? 

Or  from  that  sea  drew  forth  the  shell  of  fate  ? 
Yet  there  weird  Hope,  with  venture  bold,  doth  look, 

And,  by  her  magic  power,  soft  scenes  create. 
Sweet  visions  rise,  and  Love  triumphant  smiles; 

All  schemes  successful,  hopes  all  realized ! 
And  golden  prospects  cheer  us  in  our  toils, 

Whose  every  view  in  rainbows  is  baptized; 
Deceitful  all !  soon  fades  the  scene  Elysian, 
And  disappointment  grim  dissolves  the  vision!" 


CHAPTEE  XIII. 

"Home  again!  home  again!  from  a  foreign  shore; 
Oh !  how  it  makes  the  heart  rejoice  to  see  our  friends  once  more." 

HITS  sang  MARY  MORE  on  the  morn 
ing  of  the  day — Friday — when  she 
expected  to  set  out  on  her  journey 
homeward.  Her  heart  swelled  with 
joyful  anticipations,  as  she  thought  that  in 
only  one  day  more  she  would  be  locked  again 
in  her  mother's  embrace,  and  be  permitted  to 
press  her  beloved  sisters  to  her  affectionate 
bosom.  She  knew  that  a  warm  and  tender  welcome 
awaited  her,  not  only  in  her  own  home,  but  among 
all  her  neighbors  and  acquaintances ;  for  she  had 
received  numerous  letters  from  her  companions — 
particularly  from  LUCIE  ELMORE  sfad  Miss  GLAD 
STONE,  filled  with  the  most  friendly  assurances,  and 
many  loving  appeals  for  her  to  shorten  her  absence, 
and  return  speedily  to  the  circle  of  which  she  was 
the  ornament,  and  by  which  she  was  so  tenderly 
loved.  Her  imagination  painted  this  scene  of  re 
union  in  the  liveliest  and  rosiest  of  colors.  Already 
she  felt  her  mother's  tender  kiss  upon  her  cheek, 
and  heard  the  sincere  and  heartfelt  greetings  of 
those  dear  friends  whom  she  loved  so  well. 


208  SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

It  was  under  the  inspiration  of  this  feeling  that  she 
seated  herself  at  the  piano,  and,  accompanying  the 
instrument  with  her  rich  and  melodious  voice,  sang 
the  song,  the  refrain  of  which  we  have  quoted  above. 
"We  think  we  do  not  hazard  anything  in  saying  that, 
notwithstanding  her  bitter  griefs,  and  trials,  and 
disappointments,  MARY  MORE  was  at  that  moment 
supremely  happy — happy  in  the  remembrance  of 
duties  well  and  faithfully  discharged — happy  in  the 
anticipation  of  innocent  joys  to  come.  This  feeling 
of  deep  contentedness  beamed  in  all  her  person.  Her 
full  dark  eyes  shone  with  a  soft  and  tender  light,  her 
vermilion  lips,  slightly  parted,  were  illumined  with  a 
smile  ;  the  lively  expression  of  her  face  gave  evidence 
of  the  cheerful  animation  of  her  soul ;  and  as  she  sat 
there  in  the  splendor  of  the  morning,  her  long,  dark 
curls  vailing  her  alabaster  neck  and  shoulders,  and 
ornamented  with  June  roses,  fresh  and  fair,  she  was 
as  radiant  and  lovely  as  the  glorious  Flower-month 
herself,  which,  on  rosy  feet,  was  now  treading  along 
the  hills,  the  meadows  and  streams,  leaving  behind 
her  gifts  of  beauty  and  fragrance.  The  morning 
without  was  fair  and  cloudless,  and  fair  and  cloud 
less  was  the  morning  in  her  soul.  But,  alas !  it  is 
when  the  sky  is  the  most  serene  and  radiant  that  the 
elements  of  the  storm  and  thunder  the  most  rapidly 
gather ;  and, 

"The  fairest  day  that  ever  shone 
Hath  frowned  in  darkness  ere  'twas  noon." 


NEW   EMBARRASSMENTS.  209 

Tliis  postulate  of  the  poet,  regarding  the  physical 
world,  holds  equally  true  in  the  world  of  human 
prospects,  expectations,  and  hopes. 

And  thus  it  happened  to  MARY.  In  the  very  midst 
of  her  bright  anticipations  and  quiet  joy,  a  cloud, 
she*  knew  not  how  or  why,  appeared  to  descend 
between  herself  and  the  pleasing  picture  she  had 
been  contemplating  with  so  much  delight.  The 
picture  itself  seemed  to  recede  gradually  further  and 
further,  and  grow  fainter  in  her  view,  and  an  unac 
countable  sense  of  fear  stole  over  her — a  feeling  that 
the  brilliant  dream  of  the  morning  would  not  soon 
be  realized.  Her  heart  throbbed  violently,  as  if 
beating  a  note  of  alarm,  or  giving  warning  of  some 
impending  danger.  ^But  the  resolute  maiden  was 
not  a  person  to  yield  for  a  long  time  to  any  dark  or 
gloomy  fancies ;  ,and  her  thoughts  marching  forth 
through  the  morning  sunshine  to  her  eastern  home 
by  the  ocean  side,  the  neat  cottage  of  her  mother, 
nestling  in  its  bower  of  trees,  and  shrubs,  and  roses, 
again  rose  on  her  sight,  and  the  music  of  friendly 
voices  fell  soothingly  on  her  ears.  The  cloud,  for 
the  time,  was  lifted  from  her  heart,  and  she  lightly 
sprung  up  the  stairway  to  her  chamber,  and  com 
menced  making  preparations  for  her  journey.  Her 
fellow-teachers,  and  some  of  her  favorite  pupils, 
soon  joined  her  there,  and,  with  hearty  friendli 
ness,  offered  any  service  she  might  require.  She 
accepted  their  kind  offers  at  once,  and  they  were  all 
employe i  in  making  arrangements  for  her  departure, 


210  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

when  a  servant  appeared  at  the  door  of  her  room, 
and  handed  her  a  note.  She  immediately  broke  the 
seal,  and  read  it. 

"  Why,  this  must  be  from  my  mysterious  friend," 
she  said,  directly ;  "  what  think  you  of  his  sugges 
tion?"  And  she  read  the  missive  aloud  to*hei 
companions.  It  ran  thus : 

"If  Miss  MOKE  will  delay  her  departure  until  to-morrow,  hei 
friend  will  accompany  her  to  Oceanville." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  it  is  the  gentleman  who  was 
here  to  see  you  a  few  days  since?"  asked  one  of  her 
friends.  "  If  lie  is  the  writer,  I  should  urge  you  to 
stop,  as  it  would  be  so  much  better  to  have  some 
one  whom  you  know  to  look  out  for  you,  and  take 
charge  of  your  baggage,  particularly  as  you  are  so 
inexperienced  in  traveling." 

"  I  think  as  you  do,"  replied  MARY  ;  "  and  of  course 
the  letter  must  be  from  him ;  it  is  his  own  laconic 
style ;  and,  besides,  I  have  no  other  friend  here ; 

but  -"  she  continued,  thoughtfully,  "  he  was  to 

have  returned  several  days  ago  ;  probably,  however," 
she  added,  after  a  moment's  consideration,  "  business 
has  detained  him  till  now,  which  is  a  fortunate  occur 
rence  ;  and  I  shall  be  truly  grateful  to  him  for  his 
protection." 

So,  notwithstanding  her  impatience  to  see  her 
friends,  she  decided  to  wait  for  the  company  of  one 
who  had  already,  and  on  more  than  one  occasion, 
shown  such  an  abiding  interest  in  her  welfare. 


NEW    EMBARRASSMENTS.  211 

Now  Miss  MORE'S  reasoning  and  her  decision  were 
the  most  natural  things  in  the  world.  The  gentle 
man  in  black,  by  circumstances,  had  become  so 
connected  with  all  her  affairs  that,  on  reading  this 
note,  her  mind  necessarily  reverted  to  him  as  its 
author,  and  her  unsuspecting  nature  never  could 
have  imagined  that  it  was  written  by  any  one  else, 
or  covered  any  sinister  design.  And  yet  there  were 
some  considerations  that  might  have  occurred  to  her. 
If  she  adhered  to  her  first  determination  to  set  out 
on  Friday,  she  would  proceed  to  Boston  on  the 
"  Metropolis"  under  the  protection  of  Captain  BROWN 
and  the  kind-hearted  chambermaids  of  that  steamer, 
whom  she  already  knew ;  whereas,  if  she  delayed 
until  the  next  day,  the  passage  must  be  made  in 
another  boat,  where  all  wrere  strangers ;  besides,  she 
would  not  reach  home  until  Monday,  with  the  addi 
tional  inconvenience  of  stopping  over  Sunday  in 
Boston.  Now,  if  she  had  been  at  all  suspicious,  she 
might  have  asked  whether  her  stranger  friend,  who 
knew  she  could  pass  in  perfect  safety  in  the  care 
of  Captain  BROWN,  and  arrive  home  on  Saturday 
morning,  would  advise  her  to  delay  her  departure, 
knowing,  as  he  must,  the  inconvenience  just  alluded 
to,  and  to  which  she  must  be  subjected.  We  say, 
she  might  have  thought  of  these  things,  but  ske  did 
not.  Not  a  shadow  of  doubt  ever  crossed  her  mind 
in  regard  to  the  authorship  of  the  note,  and  without 
the  least  hesitation  she  took  the  resolution  we  have 
seen. 


SIGNET   OF   KING    SOLOMON. 

Her  companions  at  the  seminary,  who  had  become 
strongly  attached  to  her,  were  evidently  pleased  with 
the  prospect  of  enjoying  her  society  one  day  longer, 
and  strove  to  make  the  remaining  hours  of  her  stay 
as  agreeable  as  possible.  She  spent  the  residue  of 
the  day  pleasantly  enough ;  but  when  she  retired  to 
rest  she  felt  the  same  dark  shadow  or  cloud,  which 
had  fallen  on  her  in  the  morning,  stealing  over  her 
heart  again.  She  tossed  about  on  her  bed  for  a  long 
time,  courting  sleep  in  vain.  But  at  length  nature 
became  exhausted,  and  she  fell  into  a  slumber — not 
refreshing  and  restoring — but  unquiet,  and  disturbed 
by  fearful  visitations.  She  dreamed  she  was  wan 
dering  alone  in  a  vast  forest,  dark  and  dense,  and 
had  lost  her  way  in  its  bewildering  labyrinths.  The 
only  sound  she  could  hear  was  the  distant  roar  of 
the  sea,  as  it  dashed  upon  its  precipitous  shores. 
Thitherward  she  bent  her  tottering  steps.  Night's 
darkest  shadow  now  spread  a  deeper  gloom  through 
the  grim  wood.  Seized  with  a  nameless  terror,  on 
she  sped  like  a  frightened  hare,  with  bleeding  feet, 
and  arms  torn  by  the  tangled  underbrush.  Horrid 
phantoms,  with  glaring  eyes  and  threatening  counte 
nances,  flitted  around  her  in  the  darkness,  and  swept 
along  her  track  in  swift  pursuit.  Looking  behind, 
she  saw,  to  her  amazement  and  horror,  the  faces  of 
MATTHEW  OKALL  and  MAY  MILLWOOD — no  longer 
wearing  the  features  of  mortals,  but  transformed  into 
demons — casting  glances  of  fiery  hatred  upon  her. 
With  fiendish  malice  they  rushed  toward  the  trem- 


NEW   EMBARRASSMENTS.  213 

bling  girl,  as  if  bent  on  her  destruction.  She  flew 
wildly  along  the  dark  path,  but  soon  came  to  a 
sudden  stop,  and,  with  a  cry  of  despair,  cast  herself 
upon  her  knees.  She  could  proceed  no  further ;  she 
stood  on  a  precipice,  overhanging  a  strand  covered 
with  sharp  rocks,  and  on  which  the  black  ocean 
rolled  with  a  dismal  funereal  sound.  Onward  pressed 
the  phantom  train ;  onward  rushed  the  demons, 
ORALL  and  MAY,  and  pushed  her  nearer  and  nearer 
to  the  edge  of  the  abyss.  She  prayed  and  wept, 
and  called  for  help  in  vain.  They  had  seized  her  in 
their  ghostly  arms,  and,  with  hellish  laughter,  were 
raising  her  to  cast  her  forth  to  a  horrible  death, 
when  a  sudden  paralysis  seemed  to  strike  them.  The 
stillness  and  inactivity  of  death  came  over  them,  and 
they  stood  there  with,  fixed  eyes  and  outstretched 
arms,  motionless  as  the  trees,  the  subjects  of  some 
strange  enchantment.  Wondering  at  the  cause  of 
this,  she  raised  her  head  to  see  what  it  might  be, 
when  a  voice,  already  familiar  to  her  ears,  resounded 
through  the  forest :  "  By  this  sign  thou  shalt  con 
quer ;"  and,  turning  her  face  in  the  direction  whence 
the  voice  proceeded,  she  saw  approaching  her  name 
less  protector.  With  a  smile  of  triumph,  he  pointed 
to  a  crosier,  which  extended  over  the  demon-troop 
toward  her.  She  eagerly  seized  it  with  both  her 
hands,  when  her  baffled  persecutors  turned  and  fled, 
howling  and  cursing  through  the  darkness.  Her 
deliverer  took  her  by  the  hand;  and  forest,  and 
clouds,  and  darkness  all  vanished  in  the  twinkling 


214  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

of  an  eye,  and  she  found  herself  standing  among  her 
own  flowers,  before  the  cottage  of  her  mother. 

When  MARY  awoke  in  the  morning  she  retained  a 
vivid  recollection  of  this  dream,  nor  could  she  banish 
it  from  her  mind  during  the  day.  Was  it  a  fore 
shadow  of  future  trials  and  persecutions?  or  a 
remembrance  of  those  that  were  past  ?  It  might  bo 
either ;  for,  while  we  believe  most  devoutly  that  the 
Future  sometimes  reflects  itself  backward  upon  the 
canvass  of  our  dreams,  and  that  dreams  themselves 
are  often  the  shadows  of  coming  events,  we  are 
ready  to  concede  that,  quite  as  often,  they  are  the 
mysterious  children  of  memory.  But  whether  MARY'S 
dream  were  a  lingering  shadow7  of  the  receding  past, 
or  a  mirage  on  the  horizon  before  her,  lifting  up  into 
view  the  events  of  the  future,  it  left  a  gloomy  im 
pression  011  her  mind.  The  cloud  grew  thicker  and 
darker  around  her  heart  as  the  hour  for  her  de 
parture  drew  near ;  and  when  at  length  the  coach 
arrived  which  was  to  take  her  to  the  steamer  she 
felt  a  strange  reluctance  to  leave  the  protection  of 
her  friends.  But  the  thought  that  she  was  going 
home  soon  overcame  this  feeling,  and,  embracing  her 
companions,  she  stepped  into  the  carriage,  which 
rolled  rapidly  away. 

Going  home !  Every  person  who  has  been  long 
absent  from  friends  and  beloved  ones  will  remember 
with  what  exhilaration  of  spirit  and  emotions  of 
gladness  he  took  the  first  step  homeward.  How  his 
bosom  swelled  with  sweet  expectancy,  and  his  soul 


NEW   EMBARRASSMENTS.  215 

thrilled  with  joyful  anticipations,  as  he  thought  that 
his  steps  were  now  turned  toward  that  sweet  and 
sacred  spot,  where  dwelt  the  dear  objects  of  his  love, 
whose  images  he  had  reverently  and  affectionately 
borne  in  his  heart,  through  long,  long  months — per 
haps  years — over  foreign  lands  and  distant  climes, 
and  whose  loved  forms  he  was  soon  to  embrace  again ! 

Miss  MORE  felt  all  this  ;  and  no  sooner  did  she 
hear  the  coach-wheels  rattle  along  the  pavement 
than  the  somber  cloud  vanished,  and  the  warm,  glad 
sunshine  of  hope  and  love,  poured  its  floods  of 
radiance  through  her  heart.  Home — mother — sis 
ters — friends — how  soon  she  would  behold  them 
again !  Her  ardent  imagination  constructed  a  rosy 
palace,  where  she  dwelt  with  sweet  thoughts,  and 
gentle  presences,  and  forms  of  love  and  beauty. 

Meanwhile,  the  carriage  proceeded  down  Broad 
way  as  far  as  Chambers  street,  where  it  turned  off  at 
the  right,  and,  entering  Greenwich  street,  stopped 
before  an  obscure  hotel.  The  driver  descended  from 
his  box,  opened  the  coach-door,  and  let  down  the 
steps,  saying  : 

"  I  won't  keep  you  waiting  long,  rna'am  ;  I  engaged 
to  take  another  pei'son  to  the  boat ;  we  have  plenty 
of  time ;"  and  he  leaned  against  the  fore-wheel  of  his 
carriage,  waiting  for  the  new  passenger.  He  did  not 
have  to  wait  long ;  for  the  hotel  door  soon  opened, 
and  a  woman,  carrying  a  child  in  her  arms,  came 
out,  and  entered  the  vehicle,  which  immediately 
dashed  down  Greenwich  street  toward  the  Battery. 


216  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

This  woman  was  a  middle-aged  person  of  ordinary 
appearance,  and  might  be  taken  for  a  nurse — some 
what  ambitions — or  a  boarding-house  keeper.  She 
was  short  and  plump,  and  gaudily  dressed;  her  arms, 
neck  and  hand£  were  loaded  with  a  profusion  of 
ornaments,  intended  to  look  like  gold,  which  they 
were  not,  while  her  round,  full  cheeks  glowed  with  a 
bloom  too  lively  to  be  natural.  A  shrewd,  cunning 
light  burned  in  her  small,  serpent-like  eyes,  which  she 
kept  constantly  rolling  in  her  head,  as  if  determined 
that  no  object  should  escape  her  observation.  One 
familiar  with  all  classes  of  society,  and  experienced 
in  reading  countenances,  would  have  said  that  her 
looks  were  decidedly  vicious. 

But  notwithstanding  the  long  and  curious  stare 
which  the  woman  fixed  upon  her,  on  entering  the 
coach,  Miss  MORE  took  little  notice  of  her,  her  whole 
attention  having  been  absorbed  by  the  little  child 
she  held  in  her  lap,  and  which  appeared  to  be  ill. 
And  this  child — a  girl  not  yet  two  years  old,  but.  now 
helpless  as  an  infant  of  as  many  months — could  not 
fail  to  arrest  the  attention  of  any  one.  She  was 
dressed  coarsely  and  poorly,  but  her  extraordinary 
beauty  was  beyond  comparison — almost  startling, 
we  might  say.  Her  little  pale  face  wore  a  look  of 
angelic  sweetness,  while  her  long  black,  elfin  locks, 
falling  down  beneath  her  straw-hat,  covering  her 
neck  and  shoulders  with  a  profusion  of  curls,  in 
striking  contrast  with  the  pearly  whiteness  of  her 
skin,  gave  her  an  appearance  difficult  to  describe, 


NEW   EMBARRASSMENTS.  .  217 

but  which  might  perhaps  be  partly  expressed  by 
the  word  supernatural.  Her  large  expressive  eyes, 
when  she  opened  them — for  she  remained  most  of  the 
time  in  a  doze,  apparently  the  effect  of  some  powerful 
opiate — beamed  with  a  soft  and  tender  luster,  which 
immediately  went  to  the  heart. 

Miss  MORE  gazed  on  the  lovely  creature  with  admi 
ration  and  compassion.  The  strange,  wild  beauty  of 
the  little  one  excited  her  wonder,  while  the  pains  she 
was  plainly  suffering  awakened  in  her  sympathetic 
breast  the  deepest  emotions  of  pity  and  love. 

Glancing  from  the  child  to  the  wroman  who  accom 
panied  her,  MARY  could  not  help  wondering  what 
relationship  could  exist  between  the  two — persons  so 
totally  unlike ;  one,  the  impersonation  of  grossness 
and  vulgarity ;  the  other,  so  fairy-like  and  spiritual. 
She  had  not  time,  however,  for  many  conjectures ;  for 
the  carriage  soon  arrived  at  the  dock  of  the  steamer. 

MARY  descended  first  from  the  coach,  and,  obeying 
an  impulse  of  natural  kindness,  stretched  forth  her 
arms  to  receive  the  child  while  the  woman  alighted. 
The  motion  caused  by  the  transfer,  momentarily 
aroused  it  from  its  lethargy,  and  it  raised  its  large, 
wondering  eyes  to  hers,  and  nestled  close  to  her  breast. 
When  the  woman  had  stepped  out  upon  the  landing, 
she  offered  to  take  the  child  again  ;  but  MARY  said  she 
had  as  lief  carry  it  on  board,  which  seemed  to  suit 
the  person  well  enough,  for  she  made  no  objection, 
and  they  walked  together  to  the  boat,  and  seated 
themselves  in  the  ladies'  cabin. 
10 


218  SIGNET  OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

"  This  poor  child  is  very  ill,"  said  MARY,  surprised, 
at  the  evident  indifference  of  the  woman,  as  she 
returned  it  to  her  arms.  "Is  it  yours?  " 

"  Oh  !  dear,  no,"  replied  the  latter ;  "  its  mother  is 
in  Boston ;  but  I  have  had  the  care  of  it  ever  since 
it  was  two  months  old,  and  I  am  now  carrying  it 
home." 

"  Poor  thing ! "  resumed  MARY  ;  "  it  requires  all  of 
a  mother's  care  now — it  suffers  dreadfully." 

"  It  does,  indeed,"  rejoined  the  woman ;  "  it  has 
been  quite  unwell  for  some  days." 

Certain  movements  above,  and  a  trembling  of  the 
boat,  indicated  that  she  had  left  her  dock,  and  was 
now  on  her  way  to  Fall  Hiver.  MARY  was  uneasy 
and  restless,  and  looked  often  and  anxiously  toward 
the  door  of  the  cabin.  She  expected  to  have  seen 
her  strange  friend,  directly  she  arrived  on  board,  and 
now  his  non-appearance  surprised  her.  She  went  to 
the  door,  and  looked  out  upon  the  deck.  A  large 
crowd  of  men  was  gathered  about  the  captain's  office, 
getting  their  tickets,  but  a  single  glance  sufficed  to 
convince  her  that  he  was  not  among  them.  She 
next  walked  up  into  the  state-room  saloon — passed 
through  its  entire  length,  examined  the  promenade 
decks,  fore  and  aft,  but  could  discover  nothing  of  the 
person  she  sought,  and  returned  disappointed  to  the 
cabin. 

"  Can  I  have  been  deceived  ?  "  she  asked  herself. 
•'  Is  it  possible  that  note  was  written  by  some  else, 
and  with  some  design  which  I  cannot  penetrate? 


NEW   EMBARRASSMENTS.  219 

No ;  it  must  have  been  himself,  and  undoubtedly 
some  unforeseen  accident  has  detained  him." 

She  sat  down  again  beside  her  traveling  com 
panions,  but  was  by  no  means  easy  in  her  mind. 
Alone  among  strangers,  she  was  sad  and  dispirited. 
The  frightful  dream,  too,  of  the  preceding  night  now 
rose  in  her  memory  with  all  the  distinctness  of  a 
dread  reality.  Again,  in  thought,  she  was  fleeing 
from  her  demon-foes — again  she  felt  herself  in  their 
hideous  arms,  and  she  started  from  her  reverie,  pale 
with  fear.  The  shadow,  thick  and  black,  had  fallen 
once  more  like  a  funereal  pall  around  her  heart. 
Turning  to  the  chambermaid,  she  asked : 

"  "Where  is  Captain  BROWN  ?  I  would  like  to  see 
him  a  moment." 

"  Oh !  Lor,  dear  Miss,  Captain  BROWN  does  not 
go  on  this  boat;  he  is  the  commander  of  the  Me 
tropolis." 

"  True,  true,"  resumed  MARY  ;  "  I  had  forgotten. 
But  who  is  the  clerk  of  this  boat?  I  wish  to  make 
some  inquiries." 

"  Mr.  SIMONDS,"  replied  the  chambermaid ;  "  and  I 
will  ask  him  to  step  in  here,  if  you  like." 

"You  will  oblige  me  very  much  if  you  will," 
said  Miss  MORE  ;  and  the  woman  departed  on  her 
errand.  She  soon  returned,  saying  that  Mr.  SIMONDS 
would  wait  on  her  as  soon  as  he  could  leave  the 
office. 

That  officer  soon,  however,  made  his  appearance. 
He  was  a  good-looking  gentleman,  under  thirty 


220  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

years  of  ago,  with,  a  benevolent  expression  of  counte 
nance,  and,  altogether,  appeared  to  be  the  "  right 
man  in  the  right  place" — ever  ready  to  do  all  in 
his  power  for  the  comfortable  accommodation  of  his 
passengers, 

"  I  expected  to  meet  a  friend  on  the  boat,  who  was 
to  accompany  me  home,"  said  Miss  MORE  ;  "  but  he 
has  not  presented  himself,  and  I  fear  he  is  not  on 
board.  I  wish  to  inquire  if  any  person  answering 
to  his  description  has  been  at  the  office  for  a  ticket." 
And  she  gave  the  clerk  a  minute  description  of  the 
gentleman  in  black. 

"I  am  confident,"  replied  Mr.  SIMONDS,  "no  such 
person  is  on  board.  All  the  passengers  have  been 
supplied  with  tickets,  and,  had  he  been  here,  I  should 
certainly  have  seen  him,  and  the  peculiarity  of  dress 
and  appearance  you  have  spoken  of  would  have 
caused  me  to  remember  him.  But,  now  I  think  of 
it,"  he  added,  "  a  gentleman  such  as  you  describe 
went  down  with  us  a  few  days  ago." 

"  Indeed  !  it  is  very,  very  strange.  I  surely  must 
have  been  deceived,"  replied  MARY,  in  alarm. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  your  disappointment,  madame," 
continued  the  clerk,  "  but  if  there  is  any  service  we 
can  render  you  we  will  do  it  cheerfully." 

"  Oh  !  no,  I  am  obliged  to  you,"  rejoined  MAUY  ; 
"  I  dare  say  I  shall  get  on  well  enough,  only  the 
unaccountable  absence  of  my  friend  made  me  fear 
that  I  had  been  deceived — but  not  by  him — nor  can 
I  conceive  for  what  purpose." 


NEW  EMBARRASSMENTS.  221 

The  clerk  bowed  respectfully,  and  returned  to  his 
office.  During  her  brief  conversation  with  Mr. 
SIMONDS,  MARY  had  not  noticed  how  closely  all  her 
motives  were  watched  by  the  little  serpent  eyes  of 
the  woman,  who  had  so  unexpectedly  become  her 
companion ;  nor  did  she  see  the  sinister  glance  cast 
upon  her. 

At  this  moment  the  child  uttered  a  low  wail,  as  if 
in  intense  pain.  Miss  MORE  instantly  bent  over 
toward  it,  when  it  opened  its  soft  eyes,  and,  casting 
an  eager  look  around,  at  last  fixed  them  upon  her ; 
at  the  same  time  faintly  crying,  "  Mamma,  mamma." 
The  deepest  compassion  of  MARY'S  heart  was  now 
thoroughly  aroused ;  and,  disgusted  with  the  appa 
rently  unfeeling  conduct  of  the  woman,  she  asked  the 
privilege  of  taking  the  child,  and  tending  it  for  a 
time  herself.  The  woman  readily  granted  her  re 
quest,  and,  remarking  that,  as  the  air  was  very  close 
in  the  cabin,  she  would  go  out  on  the  deck,  and  get 
a  "  fresh  breath,"  rose  and  went  out. 

In  the  meanwhile,  MARY  supported  the  little  suf 
ferer  against  her  own  warm  and  healthy  bosom, 
with  her  left  arm,  while  with  the  right  hand  she 
parted  its  glossy  curls,  and  gently  stroked  its  fair 
white  brow.  The  child  soon  yielded  to  the  magnetic 
influence  of  her  caresses,  and  passed  into  a  calm 
slumber.  Turning  slightly  in  her  seat,  the  light  of  a 
chandelier  fell  full  upon  the  face  which  nestled  against 
her  breast.  MARY  cast  over  it  a  long  and  scrutinizing 
look,  and  bent  her  head  thoughtfully  on  her  hand, 


222  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

"  Surely  I  Lave  never  seen  this  child  before," 
she  said  to  herself ;  "  and  yet  how  familiar  this  face 
is  to  me  !  How  closely  it  is  joined  in  my  memory 
to  some  other  face,  which  I  have  seen,  I  know  not 
when  nor  where ! "  And  her  memory  went  away 
in  a  long  search  for  that  other  face,  but  failed  to 
find  it. 

While  Miss  MORE  was  thus  employed  with  her 
conjectures,  the  woman — we  call  her  thus,  not  know 
ing  any  other  designation — was  "  taking  the  air." 
On  gaining  the  deck  she  paused  for  a  moment,  and 
looked  around.  The  steamer  at  this  time  was 
heavily  loaded,  and  the  passages  leading  fore  and 
aft  were  necessarily  very  narrow  and  dark.  After  a 
moment's  examination,  the  woman  darted  into  one 
of  these,  and,  proceeding  carefully  along,  paused  in 
the  obscurest  part  of  the  passage.  Uttering  a  low, 
sharp  sound,  something  like  the  hissing  of  a  snake, 
a  dark  mass  was  seen  to  move  cautiously  on  a  pile 
of  leather  above,  end  a  figure  slid  down,  and  stood 
at  her  side. 

"  Is  all  going  well  ?  "  said  the  figure,  in  a  low,  quick 
voice. 

"  Admirably !  admirably !  "  replied  the  woman ; 
"the  young  lady  already  seems  attached  to  the 
child,  and  tends  it  as  carefully  and  affectionately  as 
if  it  were  her  own." 

"  'Tis  well,"  resumed  the  figure ;  "  and  here  are 
the  articles."  He  gave  her  two  parcels — one,  a 
small  white  paper,  apparently  containing  a  powder, 


NEW   EMBARRASSMENTS.  223 

and  the  other,  a  phial,  partly  filled  with  some 
kind  of  liquid.  The  woman  hastily  put  them  in 
her  pocket,  and  returned  to  the  cabin,  while  the 
figure  stealthily  climbed  up  again  to  his  bunk  on 
the  leather. 

During  the  evening,  several  of  the  kind-hearted 
lady-passengers  came  to  MARY,  and  offered  their 
services  in  the  care  of  the  child,  whose  wonderful 
beauty  elicited  remarks  of  admiration,  while  its  suf 
ferings  awakened  their  deepest  pity.  As  the  three 
had  come  on  board  together,  and  Miss  MOKE  had 
been  in  constant  attendance  on  the  child,  they  sup 
posed,  naturally  enough,  that  it  was  connected  with 
her  by  some  tie  of  relationship,  while  they  looked 
upon  the  gross  woman  who  accompanied  her  as  a 
servant  or  nurse.  But  MARY,  so  absorbed  was  she 
in  the  sacred  duty  she  was  then  discharging,  never 
noticed  this.  The  artful  woman,  with  the  serpent 
eyes,  had  skillfully  contrived  to  give  the  matter  this 
appearance.  It  was  precisely  what  she  desired,  as 
it  suited  her  purposes,  whatever  they  were. 

The  evening  wore  away ;  most  of  the  ladies  had 
already  retired,  and  MARY,  feeling  weary,  signified 
to  the  woman  her  desire  to  do  the  same,  and  placed 
the  still  sleeping  child  in  that  person's  lap.  Her 
preparations  were  soon  made,  and  she  was  just 
falling  asleep  when  a  low  cry  from  the  child  aroused 
her.  Kaising  her  head,  and  looking  down  from  her 
berth,  she  saw  that  the  poor  sufferer  was  awake,  and 
rested  uneasily  in  the  arms  of  the  woman. 


224  SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

"  As  she  is  so  restless  with  me,"  said  the  latter, 
"  and  so  quiet  with  you,  Miss,  would  it  be  asking  too 
much  of  you  to  allow  her  to  lie  by  your  side  ?  She 
will  not  trouble  you,  and  she  seems  more  tranquil 
and  easy  when  near  you." 

MARY  willingly  received  her,- and,  laying  her  again 
on  her  bosom,  kissed  the  little  pale  face  that  rested 
against  hers,  with  deep  emotion.  She  had  always 
been  noted  for  her  strong  affection  toward  children, 
and  her  young  heart  overflowed  with  tenderness  for 
them  when  they  were  ill.  Her  whole  soul  was  now 
moved  by  the  sufferings  of  this  sweet  child,  so 
strangely  thrown  upon  her  care,  and  she  prayed 
earnestly  for  its  recovery.  "  And  yet,  who  knows," 
she  said,  speaking  to  herself,  "  but  it  would  be  far 
better  for  it  to  die  now  ?  " 

The  child  soon  became  easy  again,  under  the 
caresses  of  the  loving  girl,  who  had  drawn  it  close 
to  her  breast,  and  they  both,  in  a  few  moments,  were 
fast  asleep ;  and  thus  those  two  innocent  hearts 
throbbed  on,  side  by  side,  through  that  fair  summer 
night.  Nothing  disturbed  their  slumbers,  until,  on 
the  boat  approaching  Fall  Eiver,  the  passengers 
were  called  to  take  the  cars  for  Boston. 
.  Miss  MORE  quickly  arose,  and,  seeing  that  her 
charge  yet  slept,  gently  withdrew  from  her,  and 
stepped  out  into  the  cabin.  Most  of  the  passengers 
had  already  completed  their  preparations  for  leaving 
the  boat,  and  had  gone  out  on  the  deck,  with  the 
usual  impatience  of  travelers ;  each  of  whom  seems 


NEW   EMBARRASSMENTS.  225 

to  be  impelled  by  the  singular  ambition  to  be  the 
first  to  land,  and  the  first  to  embark.  She  was, 
therefore,  quite  alone.  Her  first  impulse  was  to 
look  for  the  woman ;  not  seeing  her  anywhere,  she 
supposed  that  she  had  not  yet  been  awakened,  and 
went  to  her  berth  to  call  her.  To  her  surprise,  the 
woman  was  not  there,  nor  had  the  berth  been  slept 
in  during  the  night.  She  ran  out,  and  sought  for 
her  through  every  part  of  the  steamer,  making 
inquiries  of  many ;  but  the  missing  nurse  could  no 
where  be  found.  Confused  and  bewildered,  the  poor 
girl  returned  to  the  cabin.  She  now  saw  that  the 
carpet-bag  and  band-box  of  the  woman  were  gone, 
also,  and  nothing  remained  of  her  luggage  but  a 
small  basket,  which,  on  examination,  was  found  to 
contain  only  articles  of  dress,  belonging  to  the  child. 
She  knew  not  what  to  think,  nor  what  to  do.  At 
first,  she  thought  of  calling  the  officers  of  the  boat, 
and,  acquainting  them  with  the  circumstances  of 
the  case,  leave  the  child  with  them.  But  none 
of  them  were  in  sight;  nor  had  she  time  to  look 
them  up,  as  the  passengers  were  already  landing ; 
and,  besides,  how  could  she  leave  the  poor,  help 
less  thing  among  strangers!  At  this  moment  she 
thought  of  Mr.  CLAFLIN,  the  conductor,  and  her 
resolution  wras  immediately  taken.  She  would  carry 
the  child  to  Boston.  She  doubted  not  that  this 
gentleman  would  aid  her  in  finding  its  mother; 
perhaps,  even,  as  she  was  expecting  the  child,  there 
might  be  persons  at  the  railway  station  to  receive  it. 
10* 


226  SIGNET  OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

So,  hastily  throwing  on  her  things,  and  wrapping  the 
little  girl  in  a  shawl,  she  hurried  from  the  boat  to 
the  cars. 

It  was  certainly  a  perplexing  situation  for  a  young- 
girl  to  be  placed  in ;  for  many  an  older  person  would 
have  found  it  difficult  to  decMe  what  to  do  in  such 
an  extraordinary  emergency.  Notwithstanding  her 
previous  experiences,  Miss  MOKE'S  nature  was  as 
confiding  and  unsuspecting  as  before  ;  and  in  all  her 
conjectures,  regarding  her  present  singular  position, 
it  never  crossed  her  mind  that  all  which  had  occurred 
was  the  result  of  deep-laid  plans ;  nor  that  the  poor, 
deserted  child  she  held  in  her  arms  could  in  any 
way  seriously  affect  her  own  destiny.  That  the 
unknown  woman  or  nurse  had  wickedly  abandoned 
her  charge  she  did  not  doubt ;  but  she  could  not 
suspect  that  this  circumstance  had  any  reference  to 
herself  personally.  And  now  that  she  had  become 
by  accident  the  sole  protector  of  this  waif,  which,  on 
the  great  sea  of  humanity,  had  floated  to  her  arms 
so  mysteriously,  the  kindness  of  her  heart,  and  her 
deep  compassion  for  its  sufferings,  were  such  that 
no  considerations  could  have  moved  her  to  cast  off 
the  responsibility  upon  others.  Believing,  without  a 
doubt,  that  in  a  few  hours,  at  farthest,  the  little 
invalid  would  be  safely  restored  to  its  mother's  arms, 
where  it  could  receive  all  the  loving  care  which  its 
state  required,  she  cheerfully  assumed,  for  the  time 
being,  the  united  duties  of  mother  and  nurse ;  and 
never  was  a  child  the  object  of  a  tenderer  care,  nor 


NEW  EMBARRASSMENTS,  227 

watched  over  with  a  truer  affection,  nor  protected  by 
a  braver  or  more  loving  heart. 

She  was  wholly  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of 
the  tiny  countenance,  which,  pale  as  a  lily,  lay  before 
her,  and  musing  on  the  strange  resemblance  it  bore 
to  some  other  face  which  her  memory  could  not 
identify  as  belonging  to  any  of  her  acquaintance, 
when  a  voice  at  her  side  aroused  her : 

"  Tickets,  Miss  ?  "  and  Miss  MORE  turned  directly 
toward  the  person  from  whom  tfye  voice  came,  fully 
expecting  to  see  the  familiar  face  of  Mr.  CLAFLIN. 
But  she  was  surprised,  and  somewrhat  troubled,  to 
find  another,  a  total  stranger,  in  his  place.  She  gave 
the  conductor  a  ticket,  and,  thinking  that  possibly 
Mr.  CLAFLIN  might  be  on  the  train,  she  inquired  after 
him. 

"  He  is  not  on  the  cars  this  morning.  Sundays  he 
is  frequently  off,"  replied  the  conductor,  and  he 
passed  along. 

This  was  a  painful  disappointment  for  MABY.  She 
knew  Mr.  CLAFLIN  would  interest  himself  in  her 
behalf,  and  had  placed  her  entire  dependence  on 
him  to  relieve  her  from  her  embarrassing  situation. 
She  shrunk  from  making  any  appeal  to  strangers, 
although  she  could  scarcely  explain  why.  Perhaps 
it  was  an  instinctive  feeling,  which  had  not  yet  taken 
the  palpable  form  of  a  definite  thought,  that  she 
would  be  looked  upon  with  suspicion,  and  her  simple 
story  fall  on  incredulous  ears.  Her  expectations  of 
assistance  from  Mr.  CLAFLIN  having,  therefore,  failed 


228  SIGNET  OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

her,  she  felt  her  heart  sink  as  she  thought  that  she 
now  must  depend  wholly  upon  herself. 

The  reply  of  the  conductor,  also,  awakened  her  to 
the  knowledge  of  another  perplexity.  The  thought 
had  never  occurred  to  her  before  that  she  would 
arrive  in  Boston  on  Sunday  morning,  and  be  com 
pelled  to  stop  in  the  city  till  Monday.  This,  indeed, 
would  have  been  of  but  little  consequence,  had  she 
any  friends  in  the  city  with  whom  she  might  tarry ; 
but  she  was  absolutely  a  stranger,  and  could  not 
think  of  a  single  acquaintance  in  or  near  Boston. 
Pondering  on  the  various  incidents  connected  with 
her  journey,  since  receiving  the  note,  inviting  her  to 
defer  her  departure  till  Saturday,  she  began  to  feel  a 
vague  apprehension  of — she  knew  not  what,  stealing 
over  her.  The  shadows  again  grew  heavy  and  dark 
around  her  heart.  Her  imagination  was  now  busy 
at  work,  and  painted  a  gloomy  picture  for  her  mind 
to  contemplate.  "  What,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  shall 
I  do  if  the  mother  or  friends  of  this  poor  child  are 
not  at  the  station  to  claim  it  ?  " 

Although  she  asked  the  question  with  consider 
able  anxiety,  yet  she  believed  fully  that  this  part 
of  the  woman's  story  was  true,  and  that  the  ex 
pected  child  would  be  sought  for  and  received 
by  relatives  directly  it  arrived  in  the  city.  Still, 
should  they,  from  any  cause,  fail  to  appear,  she 
could  not  but  feel  that  the  difficulties  of  her  position 
would  be  frightfully  augmented,  and  this  possibility 
she  contemplated  with  even  increasing  uneasiness. 


NEW    EMBARRASSMENTS.  229 

Meanwhile,  the  train  whirled  along,  with  the  speed 
of  the  storm,  and,  while  she  was  still  plunged  in 
her  painful  meditations,  came  to  a  stop  in  the 
station-house.  In  her  impatience  to  find  the  friends 
of  her  protege,  she  almost  ran  from  the  car ;  and, 
unheeding  the  numerous  hack-drivers  who  accosted 
her  with  the  everlasting  question  :  "  Will  you  have 
a  carriage,  Miss?"  walked  rapidly  up  through  the 
depot,  scanning  carefully  every  countenance  she 
met.  She  examined  the  ladies'  apartment,  and  went 
out  upon  the  sidewalks,  but  could  discover  no  per 
son  who  appeared  to  be  waiting  for,  or  expecting 
the  arrival  of  friends.  The  bewildered  girl  con 
tinued  the  fruitless  search,  until  she  saw  that  she 
was  an  object  of  suspicious  curiosity  to  several 
persons  who  still  lingered  around,  when  she  hastily 
returned  to  the  place  where  she  had  left  the  cars. 
A  coachman  chanced  to  be  near,  who,  noticing  her 
perplexed  demeanor,  approached  her,  and  offered 
his  services  to  take  her  to  whatever  place  she  desired. 
She  followed  him  mechanically. 

"Have  you  any  baggage?"  he  inquired,  as  he 
let  down  the  steps,  and  assisted  her  to  enter. 
In  her  anxiety,  and  the  confusion  of  her  ideas, 
she  had  entirely  forgotten  it,  and  taking  her  checks 
from  a  porte-monnaie,  she  gave  them  to  him.  The 
baggage  was  soon  procured,  and  lashed  to  the 
carriage,  when  the  driver  again  came  to  the  door, 
and  asked  where  she  would  go.  The  unhappy 
maiden  knew  not  where  to  go.  She  disliked  going 


230  SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

to  a  hotel,  and,  after  pausing  a  moment  to  consider, 
replied : 

"  Take  me  to  some  respectable  private  boarding- 
house.  I  am  a  stranger  in  the  city,  and  do  not  know 
of  any  one  that  I  would  prefer." 

"  All  right,"  he  rejoined,  and,  mounting  his  box, 
drove  away,  and,  after  a  few  minutes,  MARY  found 
herself  in  a  comfortable  boarding-house,  in  Bedford 
street.  It  was  yet  early  in  the  morning,  and  none 
were  stirring  in  the  house  but  the  landlady  and 
servants.  MARY  resolved,  as  soon  as  possible,  to 
acquaint  that  person  with  her  anomalous  situation, 
and  seek  her  advice;  but  her  first  care  was  for 
the  deserted  child.  She  procured  warm,  fresh  milk 
for  its  breakfast,  washed  and  dressed  it  with  care, 
and  made  it  as  comfortable  as  its  condition  rendered 
possible. 

In  the  course  of  the  forenoon  the  landlady  came 
to  her  room,  when  Mary,  in  simple  and  earnest  lan 
guage,  explained  to  her  the  unfortunate  circumstances 
in  which  she  found  herself  entangled.  She  described 
to  her,  minutely,  every  incident,  from  the  time  the 
woman  and  child  entered  the  carriage  in  New  York, 
to  her  arrival  in  Boston ;  and  ended  by  imploring 
her  advice  and  assistance. 

"It  is,  truly,  a  strange  tale,"  replied  the  lady, 
coldly ;  "  but  it  is  a  little  too  romantic  to  be  true," 
and  she  eyed  the  amazed  girl  with  looks  of  suspicion 
and  distrust.  MARY  was  thunderstruck.  She  felt 
herself  on  the  point  of  fainting,  and  would  have 


NEW   EMBARRASSMENTS.  231 

fallen  to  the  floor,  liad  she  not  supported  herself  by 
the  side  of  a  bed.  The  lady  sat  opposite,  watching 
her  attentively,  as  if  studying  her  fair  and  beautiful 
face,  and  tearful  eyes,  now  rendered  more  interesting 
by  the  expression  of  sorrowful  anxiety  which  they 
wore.  The  study  was  not  without  a  favorable  result ; 
for  she  hastily  rose,  and,  taking  the  weeping  girl 
kindly  by  the  hand,  said  : 

"  Have  courage,  child ;  we'll  see  what  can  be 
done."  And  then,  turning  toward  the  bed,  she 
appeared  to  be  struck  by  the  marvelous  loveliness 
of  the  little  castaway,  -which,  lay  there  so  still  and 
pale,  as  well  as  touched  by  its  helpless  condition. 
After  a  few  more  words  of  a  friendly  character  to 
Miss  MORE,  she  left  the  room. 

MARY  was  by  no  means  reassured.  The  cruel 
remark  of  the  landlady,  so  plainly  implying  a  want 
of  faith  in  her  story,  rankled  like  a  barbed  arrow 
in  her  breast ;  and,  for  an  instant,  she  felt  a 
slight  emotion  of  displeasure  toward  the  child, 
which  had  thus  become  the  innocent  occasion  of 
her  painful  embarrassments.  But,  instantaneous 
and  faint  as  the  feeling  was,  the  kind-hearted  girl 
immediately  reproached  herself  for  permitting  it; 
and,  casting  herself  upon  the  bed  by  the  side  of 
the  foundling  that  lay  there,  watching  her  with  its 
soft,  earnest  eyes,  took  it  in  her  arms,  and  embraced 
it  tenderly.  The  poor  child  responded  to  her  ca 
resses  by  placing  its  little  white  arms  around  MARY'S 
neck,  and  laying  its  pale,  cold  face  close  against  hers. 


232  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

"  Poor  deserted  thing ! "  she  said  ;  "  what  mother 
could  be  so  heartless  or  thoughtless  as  to  trust  so 
fair  a  flower  away  from  her,  and  intrust  it  to  the 
guardianship  of  strangers  ?  Who,  and  where  is  that 
mother  ?  " 

This  latter  was  certainly  a  very  pertinent  question, 
and  Miss  MORE  felt  that  her  first  endeavor  must  be 
to  find  its  answer.  But  how  was  this  to  be  effected  ? 
She  had  not  the  slightest  shadow  of  a  clue  to  guide 
her  in  her  researches.  She  might  advertise  the  lost 
one,  or  enlist  the  aid  of  the  police,  which  would  be 
well  enough,  supposing  the  parents  had  not  them 
selves  discarded  the  unfortunate  child,  and  desired 
to  reclaim  her. 

MARY  anxiously  revolved  these  matters  in  her  mind 
for  some  time,  when  she  suddenly  started  up,  and, 
taking  the  basket  containing  the  child's  clothing, 
began  an  examination  of  each  article  separately. 
Every  piece  of  linen  was  closely  scrutinized,  in  the 
hope  of  finding  a  name  on  something,  that  might 
serve  to  throw  some  light,  however  faint,  on  the 
mystery.  Her  search  for  a  long  time  was  fruitless, 
and  the  contents  of  the  basket  were  nearly  emptied, 
when,  on  taking  up  a  little  frock,  she  felt  something 
carefully  concealed  among  its  folds,  that  crumpled 
beneath  the  pressure  of  her  hands,  like  paper.  She 
quickly  unfolded  the  dress,  and,  on  shaking  it,  a 
large  envelope  fell  to  the  floor.  Eagerly  seizing  it, 
she  saw  it  was  unsealed,  and  bore  no  direction ;  and, 
immediately  opening  it,  discovered  a  paper,  folded 


NEW   EMBARRASSMENTS.  233 

in  a  neat  business-like  manner,  which  she  began  to 
read.  She  had  not  proceeded  far,  however,  when 
a  frightful  pallor  spread  over  her  face.  She  trembled 
violently  in  every  limb,  and  seemed  to  be  entirely 
prostrated  by  some  powerful  emotion,  either  of  fear 
or  amazement. 

"  Gracious  heavens !  "  she  cried,  at  length  ;  "  Is 
there  to  be  no  end  to  the  labyrinth  of  mysteries  in 
which  I  am  wandering?  "  And,  casting  a  wondering, 
inquiring  look  upon  the  child,  sank  down  on  the  side 
of  the  bed. 

The  paper,  the  reading  of  which  had  produced 
such  strange  results,  was  a  policy  of  insurance  on 
the  life  of  a  child,  one  year  and  eleven  months  old, 
and  duly  described  therein ;  the  amount  of  which — 
five  thousand  dollars — was  to  be  paid,  on  the  event 
of  its  death,  to  MARY  MORE,  her  mother  and  sisters ! 
The  description,  in  the  document,  of  the  child  was  so 
minute  that  MARY  could  not  doubt  for  a  moment 
that  the  fragile  infant  at  her  side  was  the  person 
indicated.  But  in  what  way  had  their  destinies 
become  so  strangely  united  ?  What  connection  was 
there  between  them  ?  By  what  unaccountable  fatality 
had  they  now  been  thrown  together  ?  What  persons, 
interested  in  the  child,  had  manifested  an  interest, 
in  this  singular  manner,  in  her  and  hers?  These 
questions  ran  through  her  mind  with  the  rapidity  of 
thought ;  but  the  astonishment  of  the  maiden  had  so 
bewildered  her  that  she  could  not  even  form  a  con 
jecture  by  way  of  response. 


234  SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

After  many  vain  attempts  to  look  into  the  mystery, 
she  arose,  took  up  the  policy,  placed  it  again  in  the 
envelope,  and  returned  it  to  its  hiding-place  in  the 
folds  of  the  frock,  which  she  replaced,  with  the  other 
articles,  in  the  basket. 

She  had  no  time  for  further  questionings ;  for  the 
child  now  uttered  a  sharp  cry,  as  if  in  great  distress. 
MARY  flew  to  the  bed,  and,  becoming  alarmed  by  the 
increased  paleness  of  the  sufferer,  ran  to  the  bell, 
and  rang  for  assistance.  The  landlady  soon  made 
her  appearance,  and,  going  to  the  bed,  examined  the 
child  attentively. 

"  It  is,  indeed,  dangerously  ill.  Had  I  not  better 
send  for  a  physician  ?  "  she  said,  at  length. 

"  Oh !  do,  do  ! "  replied  MARY,  earnestly,  and  the 
tears  started  into  her  eyes  as  she  beheld  the 
alarming  symptoms,  which  were  now  rapidly  mani 
festing  themselves.  A  physician  was  sent  for,  and 
while  MARY,  holding  the  little  girl  in  her  arms, 
tried  to  soothe  her  to  sleep,  the  lady  prepared 
some  quieting  drinks  for  her.  But  nothing  they 
could  do  brought  any  relief.  She  was  plainly 
failing  fast.  MARY  bent  over  her,  with  the  most 
intense  anxiety  and  sorrow  depicted  in  her  counte 
nance.  The  affectionate  girl  forgot  all  her  own 
troubles  in  her  solicitude  for  this  poor  stricken  one. 
She  grieved  over  it  as  if  it  were  her  own,  and  she 
prayed  fervently  that  it  might  be  spared.  Others 
now  came  into  the  room,  treading  softly,  as  all  do, 
by  a  natural  impulse,  who  approach  the  place  where 


NEW  EMBARRASSMENTS.  235 

a  life,  whether  young  or  old,  is  known  to  be  trembling 
on  the  shore  of  the  Eternal  Sea.  They  drew  near 
silently,  and  surveyed,  with  curious  glances,  the 
beautiful  death-struck  child,  and  the  fair  girl, 
now  pale  with  grief,  who  tended  it  with  such  loving 
care. 

They  had  heard,  in  the  morning,  from  the  land 
lady,  of  Miss  MORE'S  strange  adventure,  and,  like 
that  person,  were  disposed  to  discredit  it.  There 
are  many — too  many  indeed — of  malicious  hearts, 
who,  having  once  harbored  a  suspicion,  through 
vanity,  persist  in  seeking  confirmations  of  it ;  and 
they  fail  not  to  give  to  every  appearance  such 
a  construction  as  will  seem  to  justify  their  evil 
surmises.  And  so  it  happened  now.  The  very 
excellence  of  MARY'S  character,  and  the  excessive 
kindness  of  her  heart — the  strong  affection  she 
evinced  toward  the  dying  child — all  were  made  to 
testify  against  her,  in  the  minds  of  those  who 
crowded  around.  Her  evident  love  for  the  little 
one,  and,  above  all,  her  grief,  so  deep  and  sincere, 
proved  clearly  enough  to  them  that  the  child  was 
not  a  deserted  foundling,  but  her  own,  which  she 
wished  to  cast  off ;  and  the  love  she  now  manifested 
toward  it  they  accounted  for  on  the  supposition 
that  it  was  a  transient  feeling  awakened  by  re 
morse.  MARY,  however,  happily  saw  none  of  those 
looks  of  doubt  and  distrust,  so  absorbed  was  she  by 
her  grief. 

Meanwhile,  the  physician  arrived,  and  commenced 


236  SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

an  examination  of  the  patient.  In  answer  to  his 
inquiries,  MARY  gave  a  particular  description  of  the 
child,  and  all  the  symptoms  it  had  shown  since  it 
had  been  in  her  care,  and  then,  in  a  voice  choked 
with  emotion,  she  cried  :  ;* 

"  Oh !  doctor,  do  save  her !  Oh !  do  not  let  her 
die!" 

"I  cannot  save  her,"  he  replied,  gravely  ;  "she  has 
been  poisoned  !  " 

MARY  started  with  a  look  of  horror. 

"  Oh !  no,  no  ;  say  not  that ! "  she  exclaimed, 
vehemently ;  "  oh !  do  not  say  that.  "Who  could  be 
so  cruel  as  to  do  so  wicked  a  deed?  She  is  so 
lovely!" 

"I  know  not,  young  lady,"  he  replied,  "who 
could  have  been  so  base  as  to  cut  the  threads  of  that 
young  life.  All  I  know  is  that  she  is  poisoned — 
murdered,  probably." 

"  Oh !  poor  dear,  dear  child,"  sobbed  MARY, 
passionately ;  and  she  raised  the  lovety  form  ten 
derly  in  her  arms,  and  kissed  its  now  livid  lips. 
The  dying  infant  opened  its  eyes  for  a  moment, 
beaming  with  supernatural  brightness,  while  a 
sweet  smile  played  around  its  mouth.  At  this 
moment  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun  streamed 
into  the  room,  and  falling  upon  the  child,  seemed 
to  envelop  its  fairy  form  in  a  golden  shroud,  and 
the  soul  of  the  murdered  infant  floated  away  on 
the  sunbeams — away  to  its  bright  home  among  the 
angels. 


NEW  EMBARRASSMENTS.  '23? 

The  exciting  events  which  had  been  crowded  into 
the  last  twenty-four  hours  of  her  life,  terminating  in 
this  tragical  manner,  were  too  nmcli  for  the  sensitive 
girl,  and  she  fell  into  a  swoon.  She  lay  in  a  state  of 
unconsciousness  for  some  length  of  time,  and  when 
she  finally  returned  to  herself,  she  was  not  suffi 
ciently  restored  to  comprehend  her  position,  nor  fully 
to  understand  the  proceedings  that  were  going  on 
around  her.  As  the  clouds,  however,  cleared  away 
from  her  brain,  she  saw  that  several  men  were  in  her 
chamber,  one  of  whom  advanced  with  some  rude 
ness  toward  her,  but  paused  a  few  paces  distant,  as  if 
struck,  not  only  by  the  exceeding  beauty  of  her  per 
son,  but,  also,  by  the  artless  and  innocent  expression 
of  her  face,  and  perhaps  touched  by  her  unaffected 
sorrow.  Assuming  a  more  respectful  demeanor,  he 
said : 

"  I  have  a  most  unpleasant  duty  to  perform,  Miss. 
Dr.  LORING,  who  was  called  to  your  child,  alledges 
that  it  was  destroyed  by  a  combination  of  poisons, 
while  other  extraordinary  circumstances  attending 
the  case — together  with  the  fact  that  this  phial  and 
paper,  containing  portions  of  the  poisons,  were  found 
upon  your  person — fasten  suspicion  upon  you,  and  I 
have  been  ordered  by  a  magistrate  to  arrest  you  as 
the  probable  murderer." 

This  terrible  blow  was  too  much  for  the  unfortu 
nate  girl,  and  she  would  have  fallen  to  the  floor  had 
she  not  been  caught  by  the  officer. 

"Murderer!"  she  whispered,  faintly;  "I,  a  mur- 


238  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

derer !  Oh !  my  GOD,  my  GOD,  what  can  all  this 
mean  ?  "  And  she  looked  around  in  utter  bewilder 
ment.  Stunned  by  the  horrible  accusation,  she  spoke 
no  more,  but  did  mechanically  as  she  was  bidden. 
The  officers  gathered  up  her  effects,  and  placing  her 
unresisting  form — for  she  was  as  helpless  as  a  child — • 
in  a  carriage,  conducted  her  to  prison. 


iisr 


'  What  next  befel  me,  then  and  there, 

I  know  not  well — I  never  knew: 
First  came  the  loss  of  light  and  air, 

•And  then  of  darkness  too; 
I  had  no  thought — no  feeling—  none ; 
On  dungeon  walls  I  leaned  alone. 

Tis  done !  I  saw  it  in  my  dreams; 

No  more  with  hope  the  future  beams, 
My  days  of  happiness  are  few. 

Chilled  by  misfortune's  wintry  blast, 

My  dawn  of  life  is  overcast; 

Love,  hope,  and  joy,  alike  adieu, 
Would  I  could  add,  remembrance,  too ! ! 


CHAPTEK  XIV. 

HE  coroner's  inquest,  held  on  Mon 
day  morning,  on  the  body  of  the 
murdered  child,  was  brief,  and  re 
sulted  in  a  verdict  of  "  death  by 
poison,  administered  intentionally  by 
MARY  MORE;"  and  the  examination  of  the 
unfortunate  girl  was  ordered  to  take  place  on 
the  following  Saturday.  The  terrible  situation 
into  which  she  had  been  so  suddenly  thrown  com 
pletely  benumbed  her  senses,  and  throughout  that 
dismal  Sunday  night  she  remained  in  a  state  of 
partial  delirium.  In  the  morning,  however,  she 
became  more  calm  and  collected,  and,  strengthened 
by  a  consciousness  of  her  innocence,  resigned  her 
self  with  Christian  fortitude  to  her  fate.  Notwith 
standing  the  perils  that  environed  her,  she  never  once 
thought  of  herself,  nor  of  any  shame  or  pain  she 
might  herself  suffer ;  her  mind  was  in  her  old  home 
by  the  sea,  and  with  those  who  were  looking  with 
such  anxious  love  for  her  return.  Her  grief  wras 
fearful,  as  her  imagination  pictured  the  dreadful 
agony  of  her  mother  and  sisters,  when  the  news  of 
her  arrest,  and  of  the  awful  charge  alledged  against 
11 


242  SIGNET   OF   KING    SOLOMON. 

her,  should  reach  them.  Although  she  knew  that 
they,  at  least,  would  never  believe  her  guilty,  she 
felt  that  she  should  lose  no  time  in  acquainting  them 
with  all  the  circumstances — so  far  as  she  could 
herself  comprehend  them — which  had  led  to  this 
misfortune.  With  this  end  in  view,  she  rose,  and 
taking  a  small  traveling  case,  containing  writing  and 
other  materials,  emptied  its  contents  upon  a  small 
table  attached  to  one  of  the  walls  of  her  cell,  and 
was  about  seating  herself  to  write,  when  the  door  was 
opened,  and  several  persons  entered.  She  saw  at  a 
glance,  by  their  badges,  that  they  were  officers  of 
the  law,  while  one  of  them  wore  the  insignia  of  High 
Sheriff.  This  latter  gentleman  was  in  truth  Sheriff 
CLARKE,  a  person  well  known  for  his  benevolence 
and  humanity  to  the  unfortunate.  He  looked  upon 
the  fair  prisoner,  now  shrinking  before  him,  with 
sorrow  and  pity,  while  the  others  surveyed  her  with 
looks  of  abhorrence,  indicating  plainly  that  there 
was  but  one  opinion  among  them  in  regard  to  her 
guilt.  A  crime  of  unparalleled  atrocity  had  indeed 
been  committed — one  that  could  not  fail  to  arouse 
the  deepest  indignation  of  the  whole  community — 
and,  as  every  circumstance  seemed  to  fasten  the  dark 
deed  upon  Miss  MORE,  it  was  but  natural  that  all 
should  entertain  a  feeling  of  detestation  toward  one 
who  was  believed  to  be  guilty  of  an  offense  so 
shocking. 

"  I  am  compelled,  Miss  MORE,"  said  the  sheriff, 
after  a  short  pause,  "  to  take  charge,  for  a  time,  of 


IN    PRISON.  243 

your  papers  and  effects,  except  such  articles  of  cloth 
ing  as  you  may  need ;"  at  the  same  time  he  made 
a  sign  to  the  officers  to  remove  them.  They  obeyed 
with  an  alacrity  somewhat  rude  and  indecorous, 
and  withdrew  from  the  cell.  In  the  meantime,  the 
sheriff,  drawing  nearer  to  the  table,  and  glancing 
casually  over  its  contents,  uttered  a  slight  exclama 
tion  of  surprise.  His  eyes  seemed  to  be  riveted 
on  some  object  that  deeply  interested  him.  After 
scanning  it  closely  a  few  minutes,  he  took  it  up,  and, 
hastily  laying  open  several  paper  infoldings,  with 
increasing  surprise  examined  its  contents. 

"  Where  did  you  get  this  ?  "  he  asked,  with  some 
abruptness,  at  the  same  time  casting  a  look  of 
suspicion  toward  the  trembling  prisoner,  as  if  he 
supposed  she  had  stolen  it. 

"  My  mother  gave  it  me  on  the  day  I  left  home  for 
New  York,  nearly  a  year  ago ;  it  belonged  to  my 
father,"  she  replied,  in  a  tremulous,  but  somewhat 
eager  voice. 

"  "What !  you — you  a  daughter  of  Captain  JAMES 
MORE,  my  old  friend  ?  "  he  cried,  astonished  beyond 
measure.  "  A  child  of  Captain  MORE  should  not  be 
here,  and  charged  with  such  a  crime ! " 

"  I  am,  in  truth,  his  most  unfortunate  child,"  she 
rejoined,  earnestly ;  "  and  it  is  equally  true  that  I 
am  innocent  of  this  fearful  crime.  Oh !  in  my  dead 
father's  name,  I  implore  you  to  believe  me.  If  you 
wei-e  bound  to  him  by  any  secret  ties — if  there  are 
any  obligations  which  connect  you  with  those  whom 


244  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

he  so  inucli  loved  on  earth. — if  there  be  any  power 
or  virtue  in  the  mute  appeal  of  that  jewel,  called  the 
'  Signet  of  King  Solomon ,'  as  my  father's  letter  seems 
to  imply,  I  beseech  you  to  assist  me  in  my  present 
trials ! " 

The  sheriff  was  deeply  moved,  and  replied,  in  a 
tone  of  kindness :  "  As  an  officer,  I  am  compelled  to 
repress  my  own  feelings ;  and  what  the  laws  decree 
I  must  execute,  although  the  blow  should  fall  on  my 
own  flesh  and  blood ;  notwithstanding,"  he  added, 
"the  sword  of  justice  should  not  strike  the  inno 
cent,  and  justice  itself  should  be  the  protector  of 
virtue.  As  to  yourself,  my  heart  and  your  truth 
ful  and  earnest  manner  forbid  me  to  believe  you 
guilty ;  yet  I  must  not  conceal  from  you  the  fact 
that  circumstances  are  strongly  combined  against 
you ;  and  others  may  not  be  so  ready  to  acquit  you 
as  I.  However,  you  shah1  not  want  friends,  to  assist 
you — friends,"  he  continued,  laying  his  hand  upon 
the  mystic  jewel,  "  who  comprehend  the  duties  which 
this  token  calls  them  to  discharge." 

On  leaving  the  cell  of  Miss  MORE,  the  sheriff  went 
to  the  jailer's  office,  and,  after  a  short  conference 
with  that  officer,  rode  away  in  his  carriage.  A 
quarter  of  an  hour  after,  the  jailer's  wife  appeared  in 
MARY'S  cell.  She  stood  for  some  time  gazing  upon 
the  poor  maiden  with  a  look  of  astonishment,  which 
seemed  to  say :  '  Who  could  accuse,  or  even  suspect, 
such  a  girl  of  this  dreadful  crime?  She  is  an  angel, 
rather  than  a  murderess.'  "  I  have  come,"  she  at 


IN    PRISON.  245 

length  said,  "  to  conduct  you  from  this  cell.  The 
sheriff  has  ordered  us  to  furnish  you  with  better 
accommodations,  and  to  do  what  we  can  to  promote 
your  comfort  while  here,  which  I  pray  Heaven  may 
not  be  long." 

The  new  apartment  into  which  the  lady  led  her 
was  a  very  tolerable  chamber  in  the  most  pleasant 
part  of  the  prison.  It  was  fitted  up  with  some  care ; 
the  table  was  covered  with  books,  and  ornamented 
with  newly-gathered  flowers,  which  the  kind  jailer 
had  ordered  to  be  placed  there,  and  the  room 
throughout  wore  an  air  of  comfort  and  quiet. 

MARY  now  resumed  the  task — which  had  been 
interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  the  officers — of 
writing  to  her  mother.  She  related  all  the  circum 
stances  which  had  so  mysteriously  accumulated 
around  her,  until  they  formed  an  immense  net, 
which  had  nowT  entangled  her  in  its  fatal  meshes. 
To  mitigate,  as  much  as  possible,  the  grief  of  her 
parent,  she  wrote  in  a  strain  of  cheerful  hopefulness, 
which  she  was  far  from  feeling  herself;  and,  in 
closing  the  letter,  exhorted  her  mother  not  to  be  too 
anxious  about  her,  as  she  wras  kindly  treated,  and 
their  invisible  friends,  who  had  so  many  times 
shown  their  will  and  power  to  serve  them,  were 
already  acquainted  with  her  situation,  and  would 
spare  no  pains  to  establish  her  innocence  and  dis 
cover  the  guilty. 

After  folding  and  sealing  her  leiter,  she  leaned  her 
head  forward  on  her  hands,  and  commenced  to 


240  SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

review  in  her  mind  the  various  events  which  were 
connected  with  her  present  condition.  Did  she 
really  have  enemies  who  desired  to  effect  her  de 
struction  ?  Was  the  note  which  led  her  to  postpone 
her  departure  for  home  till  Saturday  intended  to 
lead  her  into  this  dangerous  snare  ?  Who  wras  the 
woman  who  so  basely  deserted  her  charge?  and, 
above  all,  who  was  that  child,  so  fair  and  sweet,  and 
so  foully  murdered  ?  The  mysterious  policy  of  in 
surance,  too,  what  did  that  mean  ?  was  it  a  part  of 
a  plot  ?  And  the  poisons  found  on  her  person,  how 
came  they  there  ?  She  was  satisfied  that  all  these 
circumstances  could  not  be  the  result  of  accident,  but 
must  have  been  planned  with  a  malice  as  cunning  as 
it  was  infernal.  But  what  motive  could  have  induced 
any  one  to  perpetrate  so  dreadful  a  crime  against 
her  ?  It  was  not  easy  to  find  an  answer  to  these 
questions.  The  whole  matter  was  a  dark  and  terri 
ble  mystery,  and,  when  she  thought  of  the  possible 
results  to  herself,  she  shuddered.  Even  should  she 
escape  with  life  and  liberty,  would  she  not  be 
looked  upon  with  distrust  and  cold  disdain?  The 
very  name  of  prison  had  always  inspired  her  with 
horror,  and  was  associated  in  her  mind  with  vice  and 
guilt ;  and  now  she  was  a  prisoner  herself.  Would 
not  the  taint  of  the  place  always  cling  to  her  ?  If 
set  at  liberty — emerging  from  this  abode  of  crime — 
could  she  again  hold  up  her  head  in  society?  She 
knew  that  she  could  lay  her  wounded  heart  and 
aching  head  upon  her  mother's  breast,  and  there, 


ix  PRISON.  247 

4 

and  in  the  arms  of  her  sisters,  find  ah1  the  old  love — 
perhaps  more — but  would  not  others  shun  her  as  an 
infected  thing,  and  treat  her  with  scornful  neglect  ? 

Her  nature  was  always  over-sensitive,  and  now, 
rendered  more  nervous  and  excitable  by  her  misfor 
tunes,  her  fancy  painted  the  future  in  the  darkest 
and  gloomiest  colors.  She  felt  that  the  world  would 
never  again  have  any  joy  or  brightness  for  her; 
that  she  must  bid  adieu  to  all  the  sweet  delights 
of  friendship,  and,  with  a  bleeding  heart  and  broken 
spirit,  drag  her  weary  way  along  to  the  end.  At  the 
same  time  she  pictured  her  companions — the  play 
mates  of  her  childhood  and  youth — radiant  with  ex 
pectation  and  love,  advancing  through  a  life  of  sun 
shine,  which  they  at  once  ornamented  and  enjoyed, 
while  she,  a  poor,  blasted  flower,  must  droop  and  die 
in  shadows  and  darkness.  Thus,  drearily  and  slowly, 
wore  away  the  first  day  of  MARY'S  imprisonment. 

On  Tuesday,  the  little  courage  which  had  so  far 
sustained  her  was  gone,  and,  both  mentally  and 
physically,  she  was  completely  prostrated;  and,  on 
Wednesday,  she  was  a  picture  of  hopeless  despair. 
Visited  with  frequent  attacks  of  hysteria,  she  would 
toss  on  her  bed,  moaning  piteously.  The  jailer's 
wife,  who  watched  over  her  with  sisterly  affection, 
could  not  restrain  her  tears,  as  she  witnessed  these 
paroxysms  of  grief.  Sometimes  the  hapless  maiden 
appeared  to  be  partially  delirious,  and  would  walk 
the  room,  wringing  her  hands,  and  calling  loudly  on 
hor  mother  to  come  and  save  her. 


248  SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

•* 

During  one  of  these  fits  of  titter  despondency  and 
despair,  the  jailer  softly  entered  the  room,  accom 
panied  by  a  lady  dressed  in  deep  mourning.  She 
was  a  handsome  woman,  in  the  prime  of  life,  but  she 
stepped  feebly,  and  her  head  and  body  bent  down 
ward,  as  if  burdened  with  a  mountain  of  sorrow. 
MARY'S  back  was  toward  the  door  as  they  entered, 
but  the  noise  drew  her  attention,  and  turning  round, 
she  gave  a  wild  cry  of  joy,  and  cast  herself  on  the 
bosom  of  her  mother. 

"  Oh,  mother !  mother ! "  she  exclaimed,  as  she 
wound  her  clinging  arms  around  her  parent's  neck ; 
"  oh,  save  me  from  this  horrid  place !  I  did  not 
murder  that  poor  child.  Oh  !  indeed  I  did  not,  and 
yet  they  will  kill  me  ! "  The  mother's  grief  was  so 
great  she  could  not  speak ;  she  could  only  strain 
the  unfortunate  one  to  her  heart,  and  try  to  soothe 
her  with  loving  caresses.  And  the  pale,  suffering 
child  nestled  there  upon  that  faithful  breast,  where, 
a  tiny  infant,  she  had  lain,  under  the  shelter  of  a 
mother's  great  love  and  a  father's  anxious  care ; 
where,  in  childhood,  she  had  fled  to  sweep  away  her 
childish  sorrows  ;  and  where,  in  youth,  she  had  ever 
found  consolation  and  support.  There  now,  like  a 
fearful  dove  pursued  by  some  bird  of  prey,  she 
sought  refuge  from  the  blasting  storm.  It  was 
the  one  solitary  rock  in  all  the  boundless,  surging 
ocean  of  life  to  which  she  could  cling  for  safety. 
The  affecting  scene  moved  the  jailer  to  tears, 
while  his  wife  sobbed  audibly.  They  soon  softly 


IN    PRISON. 


left  the   cell,  and  the   mother  and   daughter  were 
alone. 


Mrs.  MORE,  after  a  short  time, 
was  sufficiently  recovered  from 
her  agitation  to  address  some 
soothing  words  of  encouragement  and  hope  to  her 
daughter,  who  soon,  under  these  gentle  ministrations, 
became  more  calm.  "Your  friends  at  Oceanville, 
she  said,  "  desired  me  to  express  to  you  their 
warmest  sympathy  and  love." 
11* 


250  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

"They  do  not  believe  me  guilty,  then?"  cried 
MAIIY,  eagerly.  "  Oh,  Heaven  bless  them  for  that ! " 

"  Oh !  no,  my  child,"  replied  the  mother ;  "  who 
that  ever  knew  you  could  believe  you  guilty  ?  They 
are  all  fully  convinced  that  your  connection  with  that 
awful  mystery  was  either  the  result  of  accident,  or 
of  some  wicked  scheme  to  get  you  into  trouble. 
They  fully  acquit  you,  and  are  filled  with  indigna 
tion  that  any  one  should  even  suspect  you.  Miss 
MILLWOOD  may  be  an  exception ;  for  her  demeanor 
has  been  strange  of  late,  and  she  has  several  times, 
when  your  friends  have  spoken  of  you  with  approba 
tion,  been  heard  to  make  disparaging  remarks.  And 
yet,  when  the  news  came  that  a  poor  child  had  been 
cruelly  slaughtered,  and  you  were  accused  of  the 
deed,  she  was  terribly  agitated,  and  fell  down  in  a 
fainting  fit.  This  was  of  short  duration,  however ; 
the  agitation  soon  passed  away,  and  she  was  as  cold 
and  indifferent  as  ever." 

"And — ard  MORLEY  ? "  said  MARY,  inquiringly, 
and  with  some  hesitation,  "what  does  he  think?" 

"  He  appears  to  be  deeply  grieved  on  your  account," 
rejoined  Mrs.  MORE  ;  "but  expresses  no  opinion.  He 
is  completely  spell-bound  by  MAY  MILLWOOD  ;  and 
yet,  judging  by  his  melancholy  and  restless  manner, 
one  would  say  that  he  was  far  from  being  happy,  or 
satisfied  with  himself ;  he  is  indeed  much  changed — 
LUCIE  ELMORE  and  Miss  GLADSTONE,"  she  hastily 
added,  as  if  desirous  of  changing  the  subject,  "  intend 
to  be  here  on  Saturday,  to  support  you  in  court." 


IN    PRISON.  251 

"  Do  they  ?  Oh !  how  grateful  I  feel  for  their 
confidence  and  affection ;  it  will  be  such  a  comfort 
to  have  them  to  lean  on — and  you,  mother?" 

"  I  shall  remain  with  you,"  she  replied,  "  to  the 
end,  and  shall  see  you  every  day." 

And  through  that  day  and  the  succeeding  ones, 
that  strong  and  loving  mother  strove  to  soothe  and 
cheer  her  child,  and  impart  to  her  strength  to  endure 
the  annoying  publicity  of  an  open  court,  and  the 
painful  trial  which  awaited  her. 

When  the  sheriff  left  the  prison,  after  his  interview 
with  Miss  MORE,  on  Monday,  he  repaired  to  his 
office,  and  wrote  several  notes,  which  he  immediately 
dispatched  to  the  persons  for  whom  they  were  de 
signed.  After  sending  off  the  missives,  he  remained 
for  some  time  in  a  meditative  mood,  as  if  he  were 
endeavoring  to  seize  the  clue  to  the  foul  transactions 
which  had  so  fatally  entangled  Miss  MORE,  and 
imperiled  her  peace  of  mind,  and  even  her  life.  At 
length  he  arose,  and  went  out  to  attend  to  some* 
official  business. 

Not  far  from  eight  o'clock,  on  the  evening  of  the 
same  day,  he  was  again  at  his  office,  where  he  was 
soon  joined  by  several  gentlemen,  of  a  grave  and 
dignified  demeanor,  who,  after  exchanging  fraternal 
greetings,  seated  themselves  around  a  table. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  sheriff,  immediately,  "I 
have  summoned  you  here  to-night,  in  the  name  of 
our  Order,  to  lay  an  extraordinary  case  before  you, 
for  your  consideration.  You  have  all,  probably, 


252  SIGNET   OP  KING   SOLOMON. 

heard  of  the  murder — unexampled  in  atrocity — which 
was  committed  on  Saturday  or  Sunday  last,  and  of 
the  arrest  of  a  young  girl,  on  suspicion  of  being  the 
criminal.  I  called  on  her  this  morning,  and,  notwith 
standing  the  chain  of  circumstances  which  attaches 
the  offense  to  her  appears  to  be  unbroken,  I  fully 
believe  her  to  be  as  ignorant  of  the  cause  of  the 
death  of  that  child  as  I  am  myself.  She  is  a  person 
of  unusual  beauty,  and  so  modest  and  gentle  in  her 
manners,  one  would  say  she  was  an  angel,  rather 
than  a  murderess.  But,  aside  from  the  fact  that  she 
is  the  victim  of  some  fatal  accident,  she  has  claims 
on  our  sympathy  which  we  must  not  ignore.  You 
were  acquainted,"  he  added,  "with  that  worthy 
brother,  Captain  JAMES  MORE,  who  died  some  years 
ago?" 

"Ah!  a  better  man,  or  more  enlightened  Mason, 
never  lived,"  replied  one — the  eldest  of  the  company 
- — "  and,  in  consideration  of  his  distinguished  virtues, 
his  family  was  adopted  by  the  Order,  and  has  ever 
since  been  under  the  protection  of  the  Koyal  Arch 
and  the  Knightly  Orders.  There  are  three  daughters, 
I  believe,  fair  and  promising." 

"And  the  alledged  murderess,"  resumed  Sheriff 
CLARKE,  "  is  the  eldest  of  the  three." 

"  His  daughter ! "  the  gentlemen  all  exclaimed  at 
once,  astonished  beyond  measure. 

"  Yes,"  continued  the  sheriff,  "  she  is  his  daughter ; 
and  has  now  in  her  possession  his  '  diploma,' '  mark,' 
and  a  letter  written  some  time  before  his  death,  in 


IN    PRISON.  253 

which  he  confides  his  family  to  the  care  and  protec 
tion  of  the  Brotherhood ;  and,  by  these  tokens,  she 
to-day  demands  our  support." 

"  And  they  shall  not  fail  her,"  said  the  same  one 
who  had  spoken  before,  with  deep  emphasis ;  "  and 
aid  shall  she  have,  through  the  '  Signet  of  King 
Solomon,'  and  a  sure  refuge  under  the  '  arch  of 
steel.'" 

"  Amen ! "  was  the  hearty  response  of  the  company. 

The  sheriff  smiled  at  the  enthusiasm  of  his  breth 
ren,  and  said,  gravely  :  "  But  we  must  not  forget  our 
duty  to  the  laws.  The  swrord  of  justice  must  fall  on 
the  offender,  whoever  the  guilty  one  may  be.  If 
Miss  MORE  be  really  guilty,  we  cannot  save  her  from 
the  penalty  of  the  law ;  we  can  only  deplore  her  sad 
fate.  But,  believing,  as  we  do,  that  she  is  the  victim 
of  accident,  or  of  some  conspiracy,  we  can  furnish 
her  means  to  procure  the  ablest  counsel  for  her 
defense,  and  also  aid  her  materially,  in  looking 
up  testimony  in  her  behalf.  I  expected  one  here 
to-night,  who  is  the  very  person  to  take  charge  of 
this  affair — he  always  shows  such  a  feeling  interest 
in  the  unfortunate  and  distressed." 

"  You  mean  our  Knight  of  Charity,"  said  one  of 
the  gentlemen ;  "  and  you  do  him  no  more  than 
justice.  He  is  indeed  the  man  to — ."  At  this 
moment  the  speech  was  interrupted  by  a  noise 
without.  The  door  immediately  opened,  and  the 
gentleman  in  black  stood  before  them. 

"  Why,  this   is   an   agreeable   surprise,"  said   the 


251  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

sheriff;  "we  were  just  speaking  of  you,  and  lament 
ing  your  absence,  as  we  need  your  advice  in  an  affair 
of  great  moment. 

"I  should  have  been  here  before,  but  only  re 
ceived  your  note  a  few  moments  since,  having  been 
absent  from  the  city  all  day,"  replied  the  gentle 
man  in  black.  "  But  what  is  the  affair  of  which  you 
speak?" 

"  A  daughter  of  our  Order,"  resumed  the  sheriff, 
"is  in  prison,  charged  with  murder,  and  by  the 
Signet  of  Solomon  and  Hiram,  and  other  sacred 
tokens,  she  calls  us  to  her  aid." 

"  What !  you  amaze  me  !  "  exclaimed  the  former. 
"And  who  is  the  unfortunate  who  is  accused  of  so 
dreadful  a  crime?" 

"  MARY  MORE,  daughter  of  the  late  Captain  JAMES 
MORE,"  answered  the  sheriff. 

"  MARY  MORE  !  Did  you  say  MARY  MORE  ?  "  cried 
the  gentleman,  bounding  from  his  seat,  pale  with 
agitation ;  "  MARY  MORE  accused  of  murder,  and  in 
prison  !  "  Oh  !  righteous  heavens ! "  he  continued, 
stretching  his  arms  above,  as  if  to  call  down  the 
thunders  of  eternal  justice,  "  how  long  shall  crime 
and  vice  prosper  in  this  wretched  world,  moving  in 
sunshine  and  glory,  while  virtue  and  innocence  weep 
in  darkness,  or  pine  away  in  dungeons  ?  " 

"  You  know  her,  then  ?  "  said  the  sheriff,  in  some 
surprise. 

"Know  her?  I  have  known  her  for  years;  poor 
child,  she  has  suffered  much." 


IN    PRISON.  255 

"And  you  believe  her  innocent?"  interrupted  the 
sheriff. 

"Innocent?  If  there  be  yet  a  solitary  ray  of 
innocence  lingering  on  earth,  to  pierce  the  fearful 
gloom  that  infolds  humanity  like  a  pall  of  death,  that 
ray  has  taken  refuge  in  the  heart,  and  beams  from 
the  eyes  of  MARY  MORE.  But  tell  me,"  he  added, 
eagerly,  "  how  all  this  happened?  I  supposed  she 
was  at  home  before  this  time.  She  should  have 
been  there  on  Saturday." 

The  sheriff  then  proceeded  to  relate  what  was 
known  in  regard  to  the  matter,  first  giving  Miss 
MORE'S  story,  from  the  time  she  received  the  note 
requesting  her  to  delay  her  departure  till  Saturday, 
and  then  stating  the  circumstances  which  bore 
against  her. 

"  We  have  the  story  of  the  accused,"  he  said,  "  on 
one  side,  and  the  facts  on  the  other.  A  murder,  of 
the  most  cruel  description,  has  been  committed  by 
some  one  ;  the  coroner's  inquest  has  demonstrated 
that  poison  was  the  instrument  employed  ;  the  child 
was  brought  to  Boston  by  Miss  MORE,  and  portions 
of  the  very  poison  were  found  in  the  pocket  of  the 
dress  she  wore." 

"And  yet,  she  is  as  free  of  guilt  as  the  murdered 
innocent  itself,"  quickly  replied  the  gentleman  ;  "  she, 
guileless  and  gentle  as  she  is,  has  bitter  enemies,  and 
this  must  be  their  work ;  but  we  have  no  time  to  lose  in 
conjectures.  When  does  the  examination  take  place  ?  " 

"  On  Saturday,"  rejoined  the  sheriff. 


256  SIGNET   OF   KING    SOLOMON. 

"  The  time  is  short,  and  we  must  be  diligent,  as 
there  is  much  to  do.  The  druggist  who  sold  the 
poison  must  be  found ;  by  the  way,  was  there  any 
mark  011  the  paper  or  phial  containing  the  poison, 
which  would  serve  as  a  guide  in  this  search  ?  " 

"There  was,"  responded  the  sheriff;  "both  phial 
and  paper  bore  the  label  of  'Rushton  &  Clark, 
Broadway,  New  York.' " 

"  Good  ! "  resumed  the  gentleman.  "  That  is  im 
portant.  We  must  also  find  the  coachman  who  took 
Miss  MORE,  and  the  woman  and  child,  to  the  steamer, 
and  also  the  woman  herself.  A  messenger  must  be 
sent  to  New  York  ;  and  I  will  go  myself  to  Newport, 
where  the  woman  must  have  left  the  boat,  and  see 
if  I  can  find  any  traces  of  her/' 

After  making  some  other  arrangements,  which 
were  considered  important  to  the  elucidation  of  the 
mystery,  and  the  vindication  of  the  prisoner,  the 
gentlemen  took  leave  of  each  other,  and  separated. 


\ 

\ 


THE 


"Speed  on,  ye  faithful  champions,  speed! 

And  blessings  with  yon  go, 
Still  aid  the  widow,  in  her  need, 

And  soothe  the  orphan's  woe ; 
Still  by  the  heart-sick  stranger's  side, 

With  words  of  kindness,  stay, 
And  bid  the  deep  and  troubled  tide 

Of  sorrow  pass  away. " 


OHAPTEK  XV. 

ATURD  AY— longed  for,  and  yet  dread 
ed  by  so  many  anxious  hearts — at 
length  came,  smiling  and  fresh,  glori 
ous  and  radiant,  as  only  one  of  the 
earliest  summer  days  can  be.  A  sky  of 
purest  azure,  and  filled  with  fragrance  and 
song,  looked  down  upon  the  world  in  smiling 
beauty,  as  if  that  world  were  not  stained 
with  crime,  and  had  not  come  to  be  a  vast  and 
terrible  receptacle  of  crushed  and  bleeding  hearts. 

The  examination  of  Miss  MORE  was  to  take  place 
at  ten  o'clock.  For  half  an  hour,  however,  before 
that  time  arrived,  the  court-room  was  crowded  to 
suffocation,  by  persons,  whom  a  desire  to  see  the 
alledged  perpetrator  of  so  dreadful  a  crime  had 
called  out.  Precisely  at  the  hour,  the  magistrate 
appeared,  and  took  his  seat  on  the  bench,  and  not 
many  minutes  after,  the  accused  herself  entered  the 
court,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  Sheriff  CLARKE,  attended 
by  her  counsel,  Hon.  CHARLES  TRAIX,  her  mother  and 
sisters,  LUCIE  ELMORE  and  Miss  GLADSTONE,  all  of 
whom  seated  themselves  around  her.  Several  of  the 
most  prominent  and  influential  gentlemen  of  Boston 


260  SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

were  also  seen  to  join  the  circle  of  her  friends.  The 
assembly  was  sensibly  moved  when  she  drew  aside 
her  vail,  and  disclosed  her  sweet  face,  so  gentle  and 
artless  in  expression ;  so  pale,  and  yet  so  beautiful. 
The  court  itself  gazed  with  wonder  on  the  trembling 
maiden,  who,  after  a  brief  and  anxious  look  around, 
drooped  her  head  upon  her  mother's  shoulder,  as  if 
she  would  draw  courage  from  the  maternal  breast. 

After  the  preliminary  formalities  had  been  gone 
through  with,  the  attorney  for  the  state  proceeded  to 
set  forth  what  he  expected  to  prove.  This  person 
was  a  stern,  flinty  man,  by  the  name  of  WRINGHEART 
— an  appropriate  name,  surely — who  had  no  faith  in 
virtue,  nor  even  in  its  possibility,  and  who  pursued 
his  victim  with  a  spirit  of  animosity  and  bitterness 
unparalleled.  He  identified  himself  with  his  cause, 
and  felt  deeply  mortified  when  he  failed  to  secure  a 
conviction,  and  exhibited  an  indecent  and  ferocious 
joy  when  he  succeeded.  Like  a  merciless  hawk, 
he  now  pounced  upon  the  poor,  fluttering  dove,  who, 
shrinking  beneath  his  pitiless  glances,  and  the  fright 
ful  picture  of  guilt  he  was  portraying,  drew  closer  to 
her  mother. 

He  said,  he  hoped  the  court  would  not  allow  itself 
to  be  influenced  by  the  personal  attractions,  nor  the 
youth  and  apparent  artlessness  of  the  accused ;  for  it 
often  happens  that  external  graces  and  accomplish 
ments,  and  even  the  appearance  of  innocence,  are  only 
masks  that  conceal  the  deepest  inward  depravity,  and 
the  wildest  and  most  criminal  of  passions.  Some  of 


THE   EXAMINATION.  261 

the  most  noted  criminals,  of  which  history  preserves 
the  remembrance,  have  possessed  all  these  to  an 
eminent  degree  ;  and  it  will  be  proved  that  this  case 
is  worthy  to  be  placed  in  the  same  record. 

It  is  admitted  that  a  murder,  of  the  most  shocking 
character,  has  been  committed.  A  lovely  and  inno 
cent  child,  over  whom  two  summers  had  scarcely 
passed,  has  been  sent,  by  the  hand  of  ruthless  mur 
der,  to  a  bloody  grave.  Who  perpetrated  the  hellish 
deed  ?  Who,  but  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  could  have 
done  it  ?  It  was  killed  by  poison — the  most  unim 
peachable  scientific  testimony  assures  us — by  poison 
of  a  peculiar  character,  and  that  poison  was  found 
on  the  person  of  the  accused.  And  she,  when  the 
crime  was  charged  upon  her,  showed  all  the  agitation 
of  guilt.  Innocence  is  firm,  and  calm,  and  strong, 
whereas  her  appearance  was  quite  the  contrary. 

He  proceeded  to  say,  that,  as  the  counsel  for  the 
defense  conceded  the  material  facts,  he  should  call 
no  evidence  to  substantiate  them,  but  would  present 
a  witness  to  prove  tfyat,  for  some  reason  or  other,  the 
prisoner  desired  the  death  of  the  child,  notwith 
standing  her  apparent  love  for  it. 

He  made  a  signal  to  some  one,  and  the  audience 
and  court  scarcely  breathed,  as  a  lady  moved  out  of 
the  crowd,  and  stood  on  the  witness'  stand.  After 
being  sworn,  she  gave  her  testimony  as  follows  : 

Her  name  was  JANE  RICHARDSON  ;  she  resided  in 
Boston ;  was  011  the  steamer  Saturday  night ;  had 
seen  the  accused  and  child  and  strange  woman  in 


262  SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

the  ladies'  cabin ;  supposed,  from  appearances,  that 
the  child  was  Miss  MOKE'S,  or  some  near  relation ; 
saw  the  prisoner  feed  it  with  milk  once ;  did  not  see 
the  phial  nor  paper  containing  the  poisons,  nor  did 
she  see  anything  put  into  the  milk,  after  it  was 
brought  by  the  waiter  into  the  cabin. 

Mr.  WRINGHEAHT  here  asked  her  to  state  whether 
she  saw  or  heard  anything  which  would  create  a 
suspicion  in  her  mind  that  the  accused  had  a  motive 
or  a  desire  to  have  the  child  destroyed.  The  lady 
hesitated,  and  evidently  disliked  to  proceed,  and  the 
residue  of  her  evidence  was  given  with  every  appear 
ance  of  reluctance.  But,  in  reply  to  WRINGHEART'S 
questions,  she  proceeded  to  say,  that  she  slept  in 
the  cabin  in  a  berth  contiguous  to  the  prisoner  and 
the  child ;  heard  her  speak  to  it ;  could  not  hear  dis 
tinctly  all  she  said,  but  these  words — "  yet  after  all, 
it  is  better  for  you  to  die  noiv" — were  plainly  uttered. 

MARY  gave  a  stifled  cry,  as  those  words  were  pro 
nounced  by  the  witness.  She  was  horrified ;  they 
were  nearly  what  she  had  actually  said  ;  but  what  ah 
awful  construction  to  put  on  them  ! 

The  testimony  of  this  witness  had  plainly  an  effect 
on  the  crowd  and  court,  adverse  to  the  prisoner.  It 
was  reluctantly  given,  and,  therefore,  had  more 
weight  than  if  it  had  been  offered  without  hesitation. 

The  countenances  of  MARY'S  friends  looked  troubled ; 
not  that  their  faith  in  her  innocence  was  in  the  least 
shaken,  but  they  feared  the  effect  of  the  testimony 
on  the  court.  Mr.  TRAIN,  the  counsel  for  the  accused, 


THE   EXAMINATION.  263 

was  not  without  uneasiness  4  for  witnesses,  in  behalf 
of  the  prisoner,  who,  he  had  been  assured,  would  be 
there,  had  not  yet  made  their  appearance. 

Mr.  WRINGHEART  having  said  that  he  should  offer 
no  more  testimony  at  present,  but  claimed  the  privi 
lege  to  introduce,  at  a  subsequent  period,  such  as 
might  be  deemed  necessary,  the  prisoner's  counsel 
proceeded  to  state  his  theory  of  defense.  His  intro 
ductory  remarks  were  brief,  touching,  and  eloquent. 
He  said  he  should  make  no  attempt  to  awaken  the 
sympathy  and  pity  of  the  court  for  his  fair  client,  but 
should  rather  seek  to  find  the  means  of  unraveling 
the  murderous  mystery  in  which  one  innocent  life 
had  already  been  lost,  and  which  placed  another 
in  circumstances  of  danger.  His  client  confided  in 
her  innocence  and  the  justice  of  heaven,  and  desired, 
more  than  any  one  else,  the  fullest  investigation — 
feeling  sure  that  the  result  of  such  investigation 
would  be  her  complete  and  absolute  vindication. 
He  then  went  on  to  state  all  the  case,  from  the  time 
when  Miss  MORE  received  the  anonymous  note, 
which  led  her  to  remain  one  day  longer  in  New  York, 
to  the  death  of  the  child ;  commenting  on  each,  and 
explaining  them  in  a  manner  consistent  with  her 
innocence. 

"  Now,  do  we  not  here  see,"  he  continued, "  revealed, 
as  plain  as  the  light  of  day,  traces  of  a  plot  to  insnare 
this  unoffending  maiden? — that  she  has  enemies, 
who,  from  some  secret  motives,  have  followed  her 
with  their  persecutions,  seeking  nothing  less  than 


264  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

her  utter  ruin,  is  certayi  ?  Have  not  those  invisible 
hands,  now  red  with  murder,  created  these  circum 
stances,  and  set  this  trap,  to  accomplish  their 
nefarious  purpose  ?  It  is  admitted,  by  the  prosecu 
tion,  that  a  strange  woman  accompanied  Miss  MOKE 
and  the  child  to  the  steamer,  and  mysteriously  dis 
appeared.  Is  it  not  a  reasonable  conclusion  that  she, 
or  some  one  of  the  conspirators,  administered  the 
poison  before  the  accused  even  saw  the  child ;  and 
then,  when  she  was  wrapt  in  the  sleep  of  innocence, 
placed  the  poison  in  her  pocket,  to  fix  suspicion  on 
her  ?  Is  it  asked,  what  motive  any  one  could  have  to 
conceive  and  carry  into  execution  such  a  diabolical 
plan  ?  May  we  not  ask,  with  still  stronger  emphasis, 
what  motive  could  the  prisoner  have  had  to  destroy 
that  deserted  child  ?  That  she  loved  children,  to  an 
extraordinary  degree,  is  notorious.  That,  during  the 
few  hours  she  had  the  care  of  the  victim,  she  became 
strongly  attached  to  it  is  proved.  What  good  could 
she  derive  from  its  death  ?  In  what  way  could  its 
removal  affect  her  interest  ?  No ;  murders  are  not 
committed  without  powerful  motives ;  and,  in  this  case, 
there  is  not  even  the  faintest  shadow  of  one  to  hang  a 
suspicion  upon.  Under  all  the  circumstances,  it  would 
be  far  more  easy  to  conceive  almost  any  one  else  guilty 
of  this  crime,  rather  than  the  accused.  True,  a  witness 
has  sworn  that  Miss  MORE  uttered  some  words,  which 
implied  a  desire  for  the  death  of  the  child ;  but  the 
witness  herself  says  she  heard  but  a  part  of  a  sen 
tence.  Now,  the  words  which  the  prisoner  spoke, 


THE    EXAMINATION.  265 

and  which  the  witness  did  not  hear,  would  undoubt 
edly  have  conveyed  a  very  different  idea." 

At  this  moment,  the  advocate  was  interrupted  by  a 
movement  at  the  door,  which  attracted  the  attention 
of  the  court.  The  crowd  parted,  and  a  gentleman, 
accompanied  by  a  female,  and  a  young  man  of  pre 
possessing  appearance,  entered  the  chamber  of  justice. 
The  arrival  of  this  party  created  a  lively  sensation 
throughout  the  assembly,  and  the  prisoner,  on  looking 
up  to  see  what  the  agitation  was,  uttered  a  cry  of  joy 
and  surprise,  as  she  saw7,  standing  directly  before  her, 
the  gentleman  in  black,  and  the  woman  whose  myste 
rious  disappearance  had  caused  her  so  much  trouble. 

After  a  short  consultation  with  this  gentleman,  the 
advocate  informed  the  court  that  the  expected  wit 
nesses  were  now  present,  and,  with  his  leave,  he 
would  proceed  with  their  examination.  The  first 
witness  called  was  the  young  man.  He  was  a  comely 
youth,  not  far  from  twenty  years  of  age,  with  dark 
complexion,  large  black  eyes,  sparkling  with  intelli 
gence,  and  a  face  that  would  be  called  decidedly 
handsome,  were  its  beauty  not  slightly  marred  by 
the  nose,  which  was  unmistakably  puggish.  On- 
being  sworn,  he  deposed  as  follows  : 

"  Am  prescription  clerk  in  the  drug  store  of  RUSH- 
TON  <fc  CLARK,  New  York ;  I  recognize  the  phial  and 
paper  now  shown  me  ;  put  up  and  sold  the  articles 
on  Friday  last ;  they  are  used  medicinally  ;  but,  taken 
in  certain  quantities,  are  deadly  poisons,  producing 
death  in  from  three  to  thirty-six  hours,  according  to 
12 


266  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

the  amount  given ;  never  sell  poisons  only  when 
ordered  by  a  physician,  and  as  the  prescription, 
ordering  these,  appeared  to  be  in  regular  form,  did 
not  hesitate  to  put  them  up." 

"  To  whom  did  you  sell  these  articles  ?  Was  the 
purchaser  a  man  or  woman  ?  "  asked  the  advocate. 

"A  man,"  replied  the  witness;  "I  should  think 
about  thirty  years  of  age." 

"  Can  you  give  a  further  description  of  him  ?  " 

"  His  complexion  was  rather  sallow  ;  nose,  slightly 
Horn  an  ;  eyes,  dark  and  restless  ;  his  moustache  was 
thick  and  black." 

As  these  were  the  principal  points  which  the  defense 
desired  to  have  elucidated,  the  witness  was  relieved, 
and  the  woman  was  placed  upon  the  stand.  Her  ap 
pearance  was  pitiful  in  the  extreme.  She  seemed  to  be 
completely  crushed  with  feelings  of  remorse  and  fear. 
She  gave  her  testimony,  however,  without  hesitation. 

She  said  that  on  Friday  of  the  previous  week  a 
gentleman,  whom  she  had  several  times  seen,  but 
whose  real  name  she  did  not  know,  called  on  her,  and 
asked  her  to  aid  him  in  an  enterprise,  which,  he  assured 
her,  should  result  in  no  permanent  harm  to  any  person, 
and  that  he  would  pay  her  well -for  it.  She  consented, 
and  he  gave  her  directions,  which  she,  to  her  lasting 
regret,  had  blindly  followed.  She  knew  that  some 
trouble  was  intended  to  the  prisoner,  but  had  no 
thought  that  it  was  anything  serious.  The  child  was 
brought  to  her  about  two  hours  before  she  took  the 
coach,  where  she  met,  as  she  had  expected,  the  accused. 


THE   EXAMINATION.  267 

It  was  then  somewhat  stupid  and  listless,  which  she 
thought  nothing  of,  as  the  gentleman  told  her  it  had 
been  some  time  ill,  but  was  convalescent.  Following 
his  counsel,  she  exchanged  its  rich  clothing  for  some 
of  a  poorer  quality.  On  the  boat  she  met  the  gentle 
man  again,  and  received  the  phial  and  paper,  and 
placed  them,  as  he  directed,  in  the  pocket  of  the 
prisoner ;  had  made  it  appear  that  the  child  belonged 
to  the  young  lady ;  that  she  herself  was  a  servant ; 
left  the  boat  at  Newport,  and  was  on  the  point  of 
returning  to  New  York,  when  she  was  arrested,  and 
brought  on  here  as  a  witness.  She  declined  to  tell 
what  her  occupation  was,  but  solemnly  affirmed  that 
she  had  no  knowledge  of  any  intended  crime,  and  had 
been  only  a  blind  instrument  in  the  hands  of  others. 
When  asked  to  describe  the  person  who  brought  the 
child  to  her,  she  answered  that  she  had  his  miniature, 
that  he  accidently  dropped  when  at  her  house  ;  and 
she  gave  it  to  the  advocate. 

As  her  statement  had  every  appearance  of  truth, 
she  was  released,  but  ordered  not  to  leave  the  city, 
as  she  might  be  called  to  testify  further  in  regard  to 
these  matters. 

While  the  last  witness  was  giving  her  testimony,  a 
person  came  into  the  court-room,  and  going  directly 
to  the  attorney  for  the  state,  placed  in  his  hands  a 
document,  which  he  remarked  was  important  for  the 
prosecution.  Mr.  WRINGHEART  opened  it  with  eager 
ness,  and  hastily  glanced  over  its  contents.  To  judge 
by  the  smile  of  triumph  which  lighted  up,  for  a 


268  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

moment,  his  stern  countenance,  they  must  have  been 
very  gratifying  to  him. 

Meanwhile,  there  was  in  the  court  one  person,  whom 
we  have  not  yet  noticed,  who  watched  the  proceedings 
with  intense  anxiety.  That  person  was  MATTHEW 
ORALL.  He  stood  in  an  obscure  corner,  leaning  against 
a  column,  which  partially  concealed  him  from  obser 
vation.  As  the  last  two  witnesses  were  giving  their 
testimony,  he  was  fearfully  agitated,  and  gave  a  sigh 
of  relief  as  they  left  the  stand.  But,  with  the  reckless 
ness  of  those  who  follow  an  evil  destiny,  he  resolved 
to  remain,  and  see  the  end ;  still  hoping  that  the 
evidence  against  Miss  MORE  wrould  be  sufficient  to 
send  her  to  a  liiglipr  court  for  trial. 

The  counsel  for  the  defense,  after  showing  that  the 
testimony  of  the  woman,  and  the  clerk  of  KUSHTON  & 
CLARK,  completely  exonerated  his  client,  by  fixing  the 
crime  on  other  parties,  demanded  her  discharge,  when 
Mr.  WRING  HE  ART  suddenly  rose,  and  vehemently 
opposed  the  motion. 

<;  Your  honor  will  remember,"  he  said,"  that  I  claimed 
the  privilege  of  putting  in  other  evidence,  if  it  should 
come  to  hand,  and  have  an  important  bearing  on  the 
case  ;  and  I  now  claim  that  right.  I  hold  in  my  hand 
a  document  which  changes  entirely  the  aspect  of  affairs, 
and  fastens  the  crime  so  strongly  on  the  prisoner,  that 
I  must  move  that  she  be  fully  committed  to  answer 
before  the  Superior  Court  for  this  atrocious  murder. 

"  My  learned  brother,  who  has  conducted  the  de 
fense,"  he  continued,  "  dwelt  lone?  upon  the  fact  that 


THE    EXAMINATION.  269 

the  accused  had  no  motive  for  her  awful  crime,  and, 
therefore;  could  not  be  guilty ;  arid  I  am  willing  to 
grant  that  there  was  wanting  an  important  link  in  the 
chain  of  circumstances,  but  that  link  is  now  found. 
There  is  evidence  that  the  death  of  that  child  would 
affect,  most  materially,  the  interests  of  the  accused 
and  her  family.  This  instrument  is  a  policy  of  insu 
rance  on  the  life  of  a  child — described  herein,  and 
named  MARY  LUDLOW;  the  amount,  five  thousand 
dollars,  to  be  paid  in  the  event  of  her  death  to  MARY 
MORE,  her  mother,  and  sisters.  This  document  was 
found  to-day,  concealed  among  the  clothes  of  the 
murdered  infant." 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  first  effect  of  this 
new  discovery.  The  prisoner  fell  in  a  swoon  on  her 
mother's  breast,  and  all  her  friends  were  struck  with 
dismay.  The  gentleman  in  black,  pale  as  marble, 
and  trembling  violently,  supported  himself  on  a  table, 
near  which  he  was  standing.  It  was  not,  however, 
any  fear  he  felt  for  MARY  MORE  that  caused  his  agita 
tion,  but  a  new  horror  that  suddenly  started  up  before 
him.  He  thrust  his  hand  into  a  pocket,  and  snatched 
therefrom  two  letters,  received  some  days  before 
from  New  York,  which,  in  the  anxiety  and  excitement 
of  his  mission,  he  had  entirely  forgotten.  He  hastily 
opened  them.  One  was  from  Mr.  BENTON,  the  actuary 
of  the  insurance  company,  where  he  had  taken  out 
the  policy,  informing  him  that  the  document  had 
been  duly  executed,  but  had  been  stolen,  as  he  sus 
pected,  by  a  person  who  had  called  one  morning  to 


270  SIGNET  OF   KIX<i    SOLOMON. 

ask  employment  as  a  soliciting  agent,  and  who  had 
been  left  alone  a  short  time  in  the  office. 

The  other  was  from  Mrs.  DE  GROVE,  and  ran  thus : 

"Come  to  me,  without  delay,  my  dear  friend,  for  I  am  in  great 
trouble  and  sorrow.  Our  dear  little  MART  has  been  stolen,  and  we 
can  find  no  trace  of  her  in  the  city.  My  grief  is  so  great  I  can 
scarcely  inform  you  how  the  disaster  happened.  Saturday  morning 
the  nurse  took  her  out  for  a  walk,  and  went,  as  she  says,  to  Union 
Park,  where  she  sat  down  on  a  bench,  while  our  lost  darling  played 
around  her.  A  gentleman,  at  this  time,  sauntered  along  up  the 
gravel  walk,  and,  seeing  the  child,  patted  it  gently  on  the  head 
The  little  one  seemed  to  be  attracted  to  him,  and  played  around 
him  in  perfect  confidence.  After  a  little  time,  he  asked  her  name, 
which  she  gave  him.  The  nurse  says  he  seemed  surprised,  and 
repeated  it  to  himself,  and  at  length  remarked,  '  I  have  heard  that 
name  before;'  at  the  same  time  he  took  a  paper  from  his  pocket, 
which  he  unfolded,  and  scanned  for  a  moment,  when  he  replaced 
it,  remarking  to  himself,  '  It  is,  indeed,  the  same. '  His  attentions 
to  the  nurse  and  child  now  became  more  assiduous,  and  he  appeared 
so  gentlemanly  and  kind,  no  suspicions  were  excited  in  regard  to 
him  in  the  mind  of  the  woman.  At  length  he  said  to  the  child: 
'Let  us  go  down  there,'  pointing  to  a  fruit  and  candy  stand,  not  far 
off,  at  the  lower  end  of  the  park,  '  and  get  some  oranges  and  candy;' 
and,  taking  MARY  by  the  hand,  she  walked  off  with  him.  The  nurse, 
entirely  unsuspicious,  looked  in  another  direction,  for  an  instant, 
and  when  she  turned  to  look  for  the  child  neither  she  nor  the 
stranger  was  in  sight.  She  went  immediately  to  the  fruit-stand,  and 
the  woman  who  kept  it  informed  her  that  the  gentleman  stopped  to 
purchase  a  couple  of  oranges,  and  then  hurried  to  a  coach  standing 
near,  and  drove  rapidly  away. 

This  is  all  we  know  of  the  terrible  event,  and  I  am  crushed  by  the 
affliction !  Oh !  do  not  fail  to  come  speedily. " 

After  reading  this  letter,  he  stood  a  moment, 
speechless  with  horror.  His  suspicion  had  become 
a  frightful  certainty.  "  Oh !  righteous  Heaven,"  he 
at  length  exclaimed,  "  how  terrible  are  thy  retribu- 


THE   EXAMINATION.  271 

tions !  But,  oil !  why  couldst  tliou  not  punish  the 
guilty,  without  striking,  also,  the  innocent?" 

At  this  moment  his  eyes  fell  on  MATTHEW  ORALL. 
Surveying  Jiim  an  instant,  with  mingled  abhorrence 
and  pity,  he  turned  to  the  judge  :  "  I  have  a  commu 
nication  to  make,"  he  said,  "  which  will  fill  the  court 
with  dismay.  The  insurance  policy,  which,  has  just 
been  read,  so  far  from  testifying  against  Miss  MORE, 
is  the  key  which  unlocks  her  prison — the  evidence 
which  establishes  her  innocence,  and  brings  to  light 
the  guilty.  I,  myself,  took  it  out  for  the  benefit  of 
an  estimable  family,  in  whom  I  am  interested.  It 
was  stolen  from  the  insurance  office,  by  an  enemy  of 
Miss  MOKE,  probably  with  the  intention  of  destroying 
it,  so  as  to  prevent  its  being  of  any  benefit  to  her. 
But,  by  a  terrible  fatality,  he  accidentally  met  the 
hapless  child,  and  learned  that  she  was  the  person 
named  in  the  instrument.  Then  the  infernal  idea 
came  to  him,  that  he  could  employ  it  as  an  instru 
ment  of  vengeance  against  an  innocent  girl,  and  he 
resolved  to  murder  the  child,  and  make  Miss  MORE 
suffer  the  penalty  of  his  crime.  But,"  he  added, 
after  a  moment's  reflection,  "  I  have  something  more 
to  say,  which  invests  with  unexampled  horror  the 
offense,  which  is  terrible  enough,  viewed  in  its 
present  aspects.  There  were  two  parties  to  this 
crime,  MATTHEW  ORALL  and  MAY  MILLWOOD,  and  the 
murdered  Mary  Ludloiu  ivas  their  own  daughter  /" 

At  this  dreadful  revelation,  so  unexpected  and  sud 
den,  the  whole  assembly  was  paralyzed  with  amaze- 


272  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

ment.  ORALL  stood  like  one  in  a  dream,  unconscious, 
apparently,  of  anything  around  him,  and  made  no 
resistance  when  the  officers  bore  him  away  to  prison. 

After  the  agitation  had  somewhat  subsided,  the 
court  gave  Miss  MORE  an  honorable  discharge,  ex 
pressing  the  warmest  sympathy  for  her  trials,  and 
fervently  wishing  her  a  bright,  prosperous,  and  happy 
future.  After  receiving  the  congratulations  of  her 
acquaintance,  and  others  who  had  become  interested 
in  her,  she  left  the  room  with  her  friends.  As  it  was 
too  late  in  the  day  for  them  to  return  home,  they 
went  to  a  hotel,  where  they  decided  to  remain  till 
Monday.  Although  heartily  rejoiced  at  her  deliver 
ance,  neither  MARY  nor  her  friends  could  shake  of! 
the  gloom  that  oppressed  them,  when  they  thought 
of  Miss  MILLWOOD  and  ORALL,  and  the  awful  fate 
they  had  brought  upon  themselves.  During  the 
evening,  the  gentleman  in  black  called  upon  them, 
and,  after  conversing  with  MARY  and  her  mother 
some  time  in  a  low  tone,  departed. 

At  a  late  hour  that  night,  a  carriage,  containing 
three  persons,  left  the  city  by  the  Chelsea  ferry,  and 
drove  off  rapidly  toward  Oceanville. 


THE  EISTD  OF  THE  PA.TH. 


12* 


"It  ceased— and  then  she  thought  to  speak; 
Then  burst  her  voice  in  one  long  shriek, 
And  to  the  earth  she  fell  like  stone, 
Or  statue  from  its  base  o'erthrown. 
But  j'et  she  lived,  and  all  too  soon 
Recovered  from  that  death-like  swoon- 
But  scarce  to  reason:  every  sense 
Had  been  o'erstrung  by  pangs  intense. 
The  past,  a  blank— the  future,  black; 
With  glimpses  of  a  dreary  track, 
Like  lightning  in  the  desert  path, 
When  midnight  storms  are  mustering  wrath. " 

BYEON. 


CHAPTER  XYI. 

UNDAY  morning  arose  on  the  little 
village  of  Lynnville,  in  quiet  serenity 
and  glory.  The  ocean  rolled  softly 
and  musically  on  its  sunny  shore. 
The  woods,  stirred  gently  by  the  west  wind, 
were  melodious  with  song,  and  redolent  of 
flowers ;  and  the  hills  and  rocks  appeared  to 
repose  in  a  joyful  rest.  The  blessed  Sab 
bath  seemed  to  have  fallen  on  both  nature  and  man, 
with  a  soothing  power.  "  Best,  tormenting  cares  and 
wild  ambitions!  rest,  worldly  longings  and  stormy 
passions !  rest,  anxious  hearts  and  throbbing  breasts  ! 
rest,  ye  daughters  of  grief,  and  sons  of  sorrow !  for 
it  is  GOD'S  holy  day — the  day  for  high  aspirations 
and  pious  resolves — for  penitence  and  prayer,  reform 
and  worship."  Thus  the  sky,  and  the  sea,  and  the 
woods,  and  the  hills,  seemed  to  speak  to  man ;  calling 
his  thoughts  and  affections  away  from  earth,  and 
bearing  them  up  to  heaven ;  lifting  his  soul  from  the 
contemplation  of  the  transient  and  mortal,  to  the 
enduring,  the  immortal,  the  infinite. 

Early  in  the  forenoon,  a  lady  was  seen  to  come  out 
of  an  ancient  and  venerable-looking  mansion,  and 


270  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

walk  leisurely  toward  the  woods.  She  followed  a 
path  which  led  up  a  hill  of  considerable  hight,  and, 
reaching  the  most  elevated  point,  sat  down  on  a 
moss-grown  rock.  The  hill  was  covered  with  wild 
roses,  and  the  sweet  eglantine,  and  the  prospect  from 
its  summit  was  enchanting  in  the  highest  degree. 
The  lady  gazed  upon  the  fair  panorama  with  evi 
dent  pleasure.  Her  countenance  was  animated,  and 
radiant  with  an  expression  of  gratified  ambition  and 
pleasing  anticipation.  This  person  was  MAY  MILL 
WOOD.  She  had  not  heard,  of  course,  of  the  extra 
ordinary  turn  events  had  taken  in  Boston,  and  in 
what  a  fearful  position  they  had  placed  her,  and 
could  not  hear,  in  any  ordinary  way,  until  Monday. 
Little  did  she  dream,  therefore,  what  an  earthquake 
was  slumbering  at  her  feet;  what  lightnings  were 
gathering  in  that  peaceful  sky,  to  strike  her  with 
their  blasting  bolts ! 

It  was,  indeed,  a  far  more  pleasant  dream  that 
occupied  her  thoughts  that  morning.  She  had  gained 
her  end.  MOKLEY  had  consented  to  wed  her,  at  even 
tide,  and  the  marriage  was  to  take  place  in  the  village 
chapel.  It  is  needless  to  inquire,  now,  what  had 
induced  MOKLEY  to  change  his  determination  not  to 
be  married  until  his  birthday ;  perhaps  it  was  MAY'S 
importunity — perhaps  he  could  not  himself  explain 
it,  if  he  tried.  But  his  determination  had  changed, 
and  he  was  to  be  married  that  night.  The  rumor  of 
this  event  had  spread  on  Saturday  through  the 
village,  and  the  young  people  were  all  alive  with 


THE    END    OF   THE   PATH,  277 

anticipation.  MAY  was  wrapt  in  a  delicious  dream ; 
her  cheeks  rivaled  the  roses  which  bloomed  around 
her ;  her  heart  bounded  with  joy,  and  she  was  just 
saying  to  herself,  "  Now  I  have  reached  the  goal  of — " 
when  a  voice  seemed  to  fall  from  the  sides  on  her 
startled  ears,  striking  her  motionless  as  a  statue,  and 
changing  the  roses  on  her  cheeks  to  ashes :  " May 
Millwood !  you  have  reached  the  goal — the  end  of  the 
path — the  Nock  abyss  yawns  at  your  feet !  " 

Amazed,  the  girl  looked  timidly  around,  but  could 
see  nothing  but  the  old  mossy  rocks,  and  waving  trees, 
and  nodding  flowers.  But  her  dream  and  its  bright 
visions  had  vanished  ;  and  after  remaining  some  time, 
as  if  considering  her  position,  she  rose  from  her  seat, 
and,  pale  and  trembling,  returned  to  the  house. 

The  holy  Sabbath  rolled  away,  and  the  sunset 
glory  poured  its  floods  of  radiance  on  the  ocean ; 
calling  to  mind  the  time  when  the  Son  of  Righteous 
ness  himself  walked  on  the  Galilean  sea,  leaving 
behind  him  there,  and  on  the  vast  heaving  ocean  of 
human  life,  to  remain  and  increase  forever,  the 
splendors  of  immortal  truth. 

The  evening  shadows  grew  longer  and  longer,  wider 
and  wider,  until,  at  last,  they  infolded  sea,  and  sky, 
and  all  things  in  their  dusky  embrace. 

The  chapel  was  already  filled  to  overflowing,  and 
the  minister  was  at  his  desk,  when  EDWIN  MORLEY 
and  MAY  MILLWOOD,  supported  by  a  groomsman  and 
bridesmaid,  entered,  and  stood  before  the  pulpit. 
MAY  was  dressed  simply,  and  with  good  taste,  in 


278  SIGNET   OP   KING   SOLOMON. 

spotless  white,  and  lier  hair  was  ornamented  with  a 
wreath  of  white  roses.  Although  she  had  recovered 
from  the  shock  of  the  morning,  and  seemed  to  be 
borne  up  by  a  strong  will,  she  betrayed  considerable 
nervous  anxiety,  and  perceptibly  trembled. 

The  minister  had  proceeded  through  the  opening 
ceremony,  and  was  about  to  speak  the  irrevocable 
words,  which  would  make  the  couple  legally  one, 
when  a  voice,  deep  and  solemn,  and  stern  as  death, 
rolled  through  the  chapel :  "  May !  behold  the  end  ; 
thy  path  is  traversed — behold,  now,  the  opening  gulf! 
Edwin  Morley  ivill  not  wed  with  a  murderess,  and 
Millwood's  hands  are  red  witli  the  blood  of  her  mur 
dered  child,  Mary  Ludloiv!"  At  the  same  time,  a 
stranger  stepped  forth  from  the  crowd,  and  said  :  "In 
the  name  of  the  law,  I  arrest  the  person  named  MAY 
MILLWOOD,  on  the  charge  of  murder ! " 

It  would  be  impossible  to  describe  the  consternation 
and  horror  that  were  painted  on  the  countenances  of 
the  persons  assembled  there,  at  this  strange  termina 
tion  of  a  marriage  scene.  MAY  gave  one  long,  wild 
shriek,  "  O  GOD  !  my  child ! "  and  fell  insensible  into 
the  arms  of  the  bridesmaid.  It  was  long  before  she 
recovered,  and  even  then  she  could  not  clearly  com 
prehend  what  had  taken  place.  She  stared  wildly 
around,  crying,  "my  child!  my  child! — murdered, 
murdered,  murdered  ! "  Ever  repeating  these  words, 
she  was  placed  by  the  officer  in  a  carriage,  and 
taken  away. 

There  was  no  service  in  the  chapel  at  Lynnville  that 


THE   END   OF  THE    PATH.  279 

night,  and  with  sad  hearts  the  congregation  dispersed 
to  meditate  on  the  tragical  events  that  had  occurred. 

MORLEY  was  entirely  stupefied  by  these  events,  and 
wandered  out,  scarcely  knowing  whither  he  went. 
With  his  head  drooping  on  his  breast,  he  walked 
slowly  up  the  path  which  was  traversed  by  MAY 
MILLWOOD  in  the  morning,  and  seated  himself  on  the 
same  stone.  His  senses  were  so  benumbed  that  he 
did  not  notice  that  he  was  followed ;  nor  was  he  con 
scious  that  any  person  was  near,  until  a  light  touch 
on  his  arm,  and  a  sweet  voice,  softly  speaking  his 
name,  recalled  him  to  himself.  Quickly  raising  his 
head,  what  was  his  astonishment  on  seeing  the 
smiling,  yet  sad  and  tearful  face  of  MAEY  MORE, 
wearing  the  old  loving  look,  turned  toward  his. 

"MARY  MORE  here/'"  he  cried,  starting  up  and 
staring  wildly  upon  her. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  fair  girl ;  "  I  have  heard  all,  and 
have  come  to  forgive  you.  By  the  artful  manage 
ment  of  the  misguided  MILLWOOD,  our  letters  were 
intercepted  and  destroyed,  and  we  were  made  to 
believe  each  other  false.  That  good  gentleman  in 
black  has  explained  everything  to  me." 

"  She  speaks  truly,  EDWIN  MORLEY,"  said  a  voice 
near  them ;  and  a  moment  after  Captain  THORNBURY 
stood  before  them.  Both  MORLEY  and  MARY  looked  at 
each  other  and  Captain  THORNBURY  with  amazement. 

"  Captain  THORNBURY  here ! "  they  both  cried  at 
the  same  time  ;  "we  thought  you  were  far,  far  away, 
in  the  wilds  of  the  West.  When  did  you  return  ?  " 


280  SIGNET   OF  KING   SOLOMON. 

"  Last  evening,"  lie  replied  ;  "just  in  time  to  see  a 
dark  mystery  unraveled,  and  two  lovers,  so  long 
estranged,  once  more  happily  united." 

MARY,  who  had  been  looking  earnestly  down  the 
hill,  now  said.  "  Where  can  the  gentleman  in  black 
be  ?  I  left  him  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and  he  said  he 
would  join  us  directly." 

"  You  will  never  see  that  gentleman  again,"  replied 
Captain  THORNBURY  ;  "  he  has  accomplished  his  mis 
sion,  and  departed,  never  to  return." 

"  It  is  very  strange,"  MARY  resumed ;  "  I  cannot 
understand  it."  But  a  new  idea  seemed  suddenly  to 
flash  upon  her  mind,  and,  casting  on  the  Captain  a 
look  of  intelligence,  she  was  about  to  speak,  when  he 
placed  his  finger  on  his  lips,  and  said,  with  a  smile, 
"  Meddle  not,  young  lady,  with  the  secrets  of  the  gen 
tleman  in  black."  And  added,  "  But  come,  my  young 
friends ;  it  is  getting  late.  MORLEY,  you  will  conduct 
Miss  MORE  to  the  house  of  her  friend,  where  she  is 
to  remain  till  Monday."  He  bade  them  "  good-night," 
and  departed. 

For  some  days,  only  three  topics  occupied  the 
minds  of  the  people  of  Ocean ville  and  Lynnville — 
the  first  of  which  was  MAY  MILLWOOD  and  her  strange 
history.  Her  arrest  for  the  murder  of  a  child  was 
sufficiently  astonishing,  but  that  that  child  should  be 
hers  and  ORALL'S,  filled  them  with  amazement ;  they 
had  never  dreamed  of  such  a  scandal.  The  second, 
was  Captain  THORNBURY'S  sudden  return;  and  the 
third,  was  the  mysterious  disappearance  of  the 


THE    END    OF   THE    PATH.  281 

gentleman  in  black.  It  was  considered  a  remarkable 
fact  that  the  strange  gentleman  should  have  made 
his  appearance  simultaneously  with  the  departure 
of  THORNBURY  for  the  West,  and  disappeared  the 
moment  he  returned.  They  wondered  much  who  he 
was,  whence  he  came,  and  whither  he  went;  but 
their  conjectures  amounted  to  nothing.  Only  one 
thing  they  knew — he  had  vanished,  and  they  never 
beheld  him  again. 

The  examination  of  ORALL  and  MAY  took  place  on 
Tuesday.  The  latter  was  discharged  ;  for,  although 
the  terrible  fate  of  her  child  was  the  result  of  her 
wicked  suggestions,  it  did  not  appear  that  she  ever 
contemplated  so  awful  a  crime  as  murder,  and  par 
ticularly  the  murder  of  her  own  daughter,  of  whose 
existence  even  she  had  no  certain  knowledge.  Owing 
to  her  peculiar  condition  when  the  child  appeared  to 
die,  and  was  removed  from  her,  she  only  had  a  vague 
idea  that  it  was  dead,  and  sometimes  thought  that  it 
yet  lived.  Yet  she  remembered  distinctly  its  sweet 
little  face,  and  its  soft  eyes,  and  loving  smiles. 

ORALL,  however,  was  fully  committed  for  trial. 

After  her  discharge,  MAY  returned  home  ;  but  she 
was  no  longer  the  same.  She  had,  indeed,  found  the 
end  of  her  path.  Shunned  by  all,  she  never  again 
mingled  with  society.  Her  mind  appeared  to  be 
unsettled,  her  eyes  wore  a  wild  and  weary  look,  and 
she  often  fell  into  fits  of  musing  and  melancholy. 
She  fancied  that  her  murdered  child  was  constantly 
following  her.  Of  what  had  belonged  to  little  MARY, 


282  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

she  only  retained  a  lock  of  hair,  and  a  small  blanket, 
neatly  trimmed  with  white  satin,  that  had  often 
enfolded  the  lovely  form,  and  which  she  had  sacredly 
kept  concealed  at  the  bottom  of  her  trunk.  These 
she  would  now  frequently  bring  out,  and  gaze  upon 
them  for  hours  in  silence.  Sometimes  she  would 
walk  by  the  sea,  or  in  the  most  secluded  parts  of  the 
woods,  saying  ever  to  herself :  "Alone  !  alone  !  You 
must  ivalk  the  path  of  life  alone!" 

MARY  MORE  and  EDWIN  MORLEY  grew  more  and 
more  in  love  every  day.  MORLEY  frankly  confessed 
his  weakness  in  yielding  to  the  fascinations  of  MAY 
MILLWOOD,  and  was  generously  forgiven  by  MARY. 
After  a  few  months,  they  were  married.  Mrs.  MOR 
LEY  ever  preserved  a  grateful  remembrance  of  those 
friends  who  were  so  faithful  in  her  days  of  trial,  and 
the  reader  may  be  assured  that  she  never  could 
forget,  nor  be  induced  to  part  with,  "  The  Signet  of 
King  Solomon"  that  powerful  talisman  which  had 
brought  her  safely  through  so  many  dangers. 


EPILOGUE. 


THE  SIN"  BLOTTED  OUT. 


"There  is  joy  in  heaven  I 
There  is  joy  in  heaven ! 
When  the  sheep  that  went  astray 
Turns  again  to  virtue's  way; 
"\Vhen  the  soul,  to  good  subdued, 
Sobs  its  prayer  of  gratitude, 
Then  is  there  joy  in  heaven!" 


CHAPTEK  XVII. 


|T  was  the  twenty-fourth  of  June- — the 
day  sacred  in  all  time,  since  the  Ad 
vent,  to  the  memory  of  St.  John  the 
Baptist,  the  first  herald  of  the  New 
Dispensation,  and  the  patron  Saint  of 
the  mysteries  of  Solomon  and  Hiram.  The  Knights 


286  SIGNET   OF   KING   SOLOMON. 

of  the  Temple  were  again  assembled  to  celebrate 
their  favorite  anniversary,  to  offer  their  hospitalities 
to  pilgrims  from  afar,  and  review  the  condition  of 
that  Brotherhood  which,  in  all  ages,  has  been  the 
most  faithful  defender  of  the  Christian  religion,  the 
shield  of  innocence,  the  protector  of  the  weak,  and 
the  nursery  of  political  and  religious  freedom. 

After  the  encampment  was  organized,  the  Grand 
Commander  said : 

"  Senior  Warden,  are  there  any  pilgrims  or  peni 
tents  at  our  gates,  who  have  come  to  crave  our 
hospitality,  or  to  reclaim  their  rights  ?  " 

"  There  is  one  without,"  replied  the  Warden,  "  both 
a  pilgrim  and  a  penitent,  who  has  traveled  '  for  a 
year  and  a  day,'  protecting  the  defenseless,  helping 
the  poor,  visiting  the  sick,  defending  the  widow  and 
orphan,  and  honoring  our  Order  by  illustrious  virtues. 
He  now  returns,  to  resume  his  place  in^our  councils, 
and  find  repose  under  the  banner  of  the  Temple." 

"  Let  him  enter,  then,  in  the  name  of"  GOD." 

The  door  opened,  and  a  person,  covered  with  the 
cloak  of  a  pilgrim,  and  holding  in  his  hand  a  staff, 
entered,  and,  proceeding  to  the  altar,  knelt  for  a  few 
moments  in  silent  prayer ;  at  the  same  time  an  organ 
gave  forth  a  strain,  at  first  sad  and  melancholy,  like 
the  wail  of  remorse  and  penitence,  and  then  pealing 
out  like  the  voice  of  trumpets,  or  the  shout  of 
victorious  armies.  As  the  organ  tones  died  away,  all 
the  Knights  raised  their  voices  in  a  solemn  chant. 

"  There  is  joy  in  heaven !  There  is  joy  in  heaven 
over  one  sinner  that  repenteth,  more  than  over  rinety 
and  nine  just  persons  that  need  no  repentance." 

The   pilgrim   at  the  altar  now  rose,  and,  laying 


THE   SIN   BLOTTED   OUT.  287 

aside  his  cloak  and  staff,  approached  the  Grand 
Commander,  and  bowed  respectfully  before  him. 

"  Pilgrim,"  said  the  chief,  "  you  have  made  the  tour 
of  penance  and  of  warfare,  and  for  a  year  and  a  day 
have  traversed  the  labyrinths  of  sorrow,  and  labor, 
and  tears.  You  went  out,  bending  under  the  cypress 
and  willow  ;  you  return,  crowned  with  the  myrtle  and 
laurel.  In  humility,  you  accepted  the  doom  pro 
nounced  by  the  Commandery,  and  faithfully  have  you 
achieved  the  severe  labors  which  we  required  at  your 
hands.  The  joyful  tears  of  the  wretched,  the  forlorn — 
of  widows  and  orphans,  and  of  those  who  had  none 
to  help,  form  a  diadem  for  your  brow,  more  brilliant 
than  an  emperor's  jeweled  crown,  and  bear  witness  to 
your  fidelity  and  knightly  truth  and  valor.  By  sacred 
labors  you  have  expiated  your  fault,  and  to-day  your 
sin  and  its  memory  are  blotted  out  forever. 

"Take  notice,  Sir  Knights,  and  let  the  heralds 
proclaim  it  to  east,  west,  north,  and  south — the 
name  of  Sir  JOHN  THORNBURY  is  erased  from  the 
book  of  doom,  and  inscribed  in  golden  letters  011 
the  column  of  honor  and  renown. 

"  Sir  JOHN,  behold  your  sword,  now  restored  to  you 
with  our  confidence,  and  love,  and  profound  regard. 
We  know  you  will  wear  it  with  honor,  and  ever  wield 
it  in  defense  of  innocent  virgins,  destitute  widows, 
helpless  orphans,  and  the  faith  of  CHRIST. 

"  Receive,  also,  this  scarf,  and  the  other  decorations 
of  your  Order,  and  consider  yourself  reestablished 
in  all  the  rights  and  exalted  privileges  of  knighthood. 

"  Sir  Knights,  the  example  of  Sir  JOHN  THORNBURY 
is  worthy  of  imitation.  Let  us  learn  from  his  history 
that,  although  penitence,  and  labor,  and  charity  will 


288  SIGNET    OF    KING    SOLOMON. 

not  open  to  -us  again  the  temple  of  Innocence,  they  will 
bring  us,  with  honor,  to  the  temple  of  Virtue. 

"  And  while  you  strive,  as  faithful  Knights,  for  the 
establishment  of  order,  and  justice,  a-iid  truth  in  the 
earth,  forget  not  the  sacred  ties  which  bind  you  to 
each  other.  If  you  see  a  Brother  bending  under  the 
cross  of  adversity  and  disappointment,  look  not  idly 
on,  neither  pass  by  on  the  other  side  ;  but  fly  to  his 
relief.  If  he  be  deceived,  tell  him  the  truth;  if  he 
be  calumniated,  vindicate  his  cause ;  for,  although, 
in  some  instances,  he  may  have  erred,  still  recol 
lect  that  indiscretion  in  him  should  never  destroy 
humanity  in  you. 

"Finally,  let  us  remember  that  memento  mori  is 
written  on  all  mundane  things.  The  whole  system 
of  worlds  is  subject  to  change  and  decay.  The  time 
of  our  warfare  on  earth  is  short ;  and  how  numerous 
the  foes,  within  and  without,  we  have  yet  to  subdue, 
before  we  can  lay  aside  our  armor,  and  rest  from 
our  labors !  Let  us  be  vigilant,  then,  and  diligent ; 
for,  before  the  holy-day  of  St.  JOHN  shall  dawn  upon 
us  again,  some  of  us  may  have  fallen  upon  the 
battle-field  of  life,  and  the  laughing  spring  and 
rosy  summer  will  come,  only  to  scatter  flowers  upon 
our  grave.  Watch,  therefore,  labor,  and  piay. 

"  Sir  Warden,  what  is  the  hour  ?  " 

"  The  end  of  day." 

"  What  remains  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  To  practice  virtue,  flee  from  vice,  and  remain  in 
silence." 

"  Since  there  remains  nothing  to  do  but  to  practice 
virtue,  and  flee  from  vice,  let  us  enter  again  into 
silence,  that  the  will  of  GOD  may  be  accomplished/' 


POPULAR  WORKS  01  FREEMASONRY 

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MASONIC  PUBLISHING  AND  MANUFACTURING  CO. 
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THE  HISTORY  OF  INITIATION,  in  Twelve  Lectures,  comprising 

«  Detailed  Account  of  the  Rites  and  Ceremonies,  Doctrines  and  Disci 
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THE  THEOCRATIC  PHILOSOPHY  OP  FREEMASONRY,  in  Twelve 

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FREEMASON'S  MONITOR;  containing  the  Degrees  of  Free 
masonry,  embraced  in  the  Lodge,  Chapter,  Council,  and  Commandery, 
embellished  with  nearly  300  Symbolic  Illustrations.  Together  with 
Tactics  and  Drill  of  Masonic  Knighthood.  Also,  Forms  of  Masonic 
Documents,  Notes,  Songs,  Masonic  Dates,  Installations,  etc.  By 
DANIEL  SICKELS,  33d.  Tuck 1  50 

TRADITIONS  OF  FREEMASONRY  and  its  Coincidence  with  the 
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THE  HISTORY  OP  MASONIC  PERSECUTIONS,  in  different  quar 
ters  of  the  Globe.  By  VARIOUS  AUTHORS.  With  an  Introductory 
Essay  on  the  Usages  and  Customs  of  Symbolic  Masonry.  By  REV. 
GEO.  OLIVER,  D.  D. 

MASONIC  INSTITUTES.  By  Various  Authors.  With  an  intro 
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THE  TRUE  MASONIC   CHART;    or,  Hieroglyphic  Monitor; 

containing  all  the  emblems  explained  in  the  degrees  of  Entered  Ap 
prentice,  Fellow-Craft,  and  Master  Mason.  Designed  and  arranged 
agreeably  to  the  Lectures.  By  JEREMY  L.  CROSS,  Grand  Lecturer. 
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THE  MYSTIC  TIE  ;  or,  Facts  and  Opinions  illustrative  of  the 

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dence.  By  GEO.  W.  CHASE.  12mo.  Cloth 150 

A  MIRROR  FOR  THE  JOHANNITE  MASON.  In  a  series  of  letters 
to  the  Right  Honorable  the  Earl  of  Aboyne  By  Rev.  GEO.  OLIVER,  D.  D. 

THE  STAR  IN  THE  EAST.     By  Ilev.  GEORGE  OLIVER,  D.  D. 

B3^°  Two  interesting  and  valuable  works  brought  together  in  one 
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A  COMPARISON  OF^EGYPTIAN  SYMBOLS  WITH  THOSE  OF  THE 

HEBREWS  By  FREDERICK  PORTAL.  Translated  from  the  French,  by 
JOHN  W.  SIMONS.  Illustrated  with  some  fifty  cuts,  representing  the 
Ancient  Symbols,  and  accompanied  with  extended  explanations, 
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THE    SPIRIT   OF   MASONRY.     By  WILLIAM   HUTCHINSON, 

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BOOK  OF  THE  COMMANDERY  ;   a  Monitor  for  the  Orders  of 

Masonic  Knighthood  ;  containing  its  Burial  Service  ;  an  improved  Sys 
tem  of  Tactics  and  Drill ;  the  Ceremonies  of  Installation  for  Grand  and 
Subordinate  Commanderies ;  a  List  of  the  Orders  of  Knighthood 
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JOHN  W.  SIMONS,  P.  G.  M.  Flexible  Cover— full  gilt,  75  cents.  Tuck 
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MANUAL  OF  THE  CHAPTER;    a  Monitor   for  Royal  Arch 

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Priesthood  ;  the  Ceremonies  for  Installing  the  Officers  of  a  Chapter, 
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FREEMASON'S  MONITOR  ;   or,  Illustrations  of  Masonry.    By 

THOMAS  SMITH  WEBB,  Masonic  Lecturer.  With  Portrait,  and  Embel 
lished.  Cloth 75 

THE  REVELATIONS  OF  A  SQUARE,  exhibiting  a  graphic  dis- 
pla5r  of  the  Sayings  and  Doings  of  Eminent  Free  and  Accepted  Masons, 
from  the  Revival  in  1717,  by  Dr.  Desaguliers,  to  the  Reunion  in  1813. 
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RATIONALE  AND  ETHICS  OF  FREEMASONRY  ;  or,  the  Masonic 

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gether  with  Ceremonies  of  Inauguration,  Institution,  Installation, 
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tutions,  General  Regulations,  Calendar,  etc.  By  CHARLES  T.  McCLEN- 
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DES  FREIMAURER'S  HANDBUCH  (German) 75 

MORAL  DESIGN  OF  FREEMASONRY.     By  S.  LAWRENCE 1  00 

BOOK  OF  THE  CHAPTER.     By  A.  G.  MACKEY,  M.  D 1  75 

MASONIC  VOCAL  MANUAL.     By  ROBERT  M ACOY per  doz.  3  00 

MANUAL  DE  LA  MASONERIA  (Spanish).   By  A.  CASSARD 10  00 

HISTORY  OF  THE  ANCIENT  AND  ACCEPTED  RITE.    By  ROBT.  B.  FOLGEB.  6  00 

LEXICON  OF  FREEMASONRY.    By  A.  G.  MACKEY 3  00 

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MANUAL  OF  THE  LODGE.    By  A.  G.  MACKEY 175 

FREEMASON'S  MANUAL.    By  K.  J.  STEWART 1  50 

MASONIC  TRESTLE-BOARD.     By  C.  W.  MOORE 1  75 

KEYSTONE  OF  THE  MASONIC  ARCH.    By  CHARLES  SCOTT 1  25 

MASTER  WORKMAN.    By  JOHN  K.  HALL Tuck,  75 

MASONIC  HARP.    By  GEORGE  W.  CHASE 1  00 

JURYMAN  MASON.    By  an  ENGLISH  RECTOR 25 

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